


Sanctioned

by GuineapigQueen



Category: South Park
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bunny is only if you squint though, Clybe - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Twenny, Underage drinking smoking etc, Vague/implied non-con, bendy - Freeform, bunny - Freeform, creek - Freeform, some typical teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 45,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuineapigQueen/pseuds/GuineapigQueen
Summary: They say the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and expect the same results.So when Craig tells Tweek he wants to call it quits, Tweek is a mess in the aftermath. He’s heartbroken, his mental health declining and completely unwilling to change.EDIT: This isn’t as angsty as the summary makes it look! It’s more slice of life with a range of emotions. It’s also endgame creek, it’s a healing story. So don’t let the tags and such put you off.





	1. UFO

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So I’ve been working on this bad boy for nearly four years now and I can’t believe it’s finally done! This fic is very close to my heart, a good portion of it is based around my teenage years and the party culture I was a part of. There’s going to be underage drinking, smoking and drug taking. There’s going to be sex mentioned, but not actually depicted. The characters here are 16-17 and are consenting. I will up the age/rating/tags later if appropriate - your feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> I hope you guys give this a shot, it’s completed and will be updated regularly. 
> 
> A huge thank you to Blame Canada and metrophobic for betaing this monster! And a huge thank you to scarlettshazam for helping me with plot stuff and the summary. You guys support has been extremely appreciated.

1\. UFO - Sneaky Sound System

The grass is slightly damp: that’s the first thing Tweek notices as he threads his fingers through the too-long blades. Has it been raining? He doesn’t remember any rain; the bottom of his jeans and the back of his shirt are damp but not soaked. It couldn’t have rained too hard then - he could have been here for hours for all he knows. He can hear distant chatter and the low hum of a bass line.

 

It’s much quieter out here than the inside of the buzzing house; the air is cool on his face, the slight breeze oddly comforting.  _ Inside _ the house is most likely loud, sweaty and chaotic while Tweek is craving the stillness. He wonders if anybody was with him before he came out here; had he and Bebe nipped out for a cigarette, only for him to pass out on her? Had he been lying on the grass with Clyde, sharing a joint before Clyde left to let him sleep? Did he have some kind of panic attack inside the house, and Craig brought him out here to calm down, then left? Maybe he’d been by himself to start with and just needed a power nap? 

 

All seem to be likely options; he can’t fault his friends for walking away either – if they had even been there to begin with. He knows that his bullshit is sometimes too much of a drag, even for the long-suffering people who insist on keeping him around. Not that it particularly matters because he feels calm now, the ticklish feeling of the grass in Token’s (was it Token’s? – it probably was) backyard rustling against his bare arms is enough. Above him, the sky is black, yet the stars are bright and all-expansive. Maybe Craig brought him out here to stargaze? No. Craig doesn’t do that anymore: he keeps those parts to himself and sleeps alone. Tweek never sleeps alone, not really, but he wishes he could. 

 

He can never quite make out what They are saying, but he doesn’t think They mean him any real harm. He thinks They probably just want someone to talk to, somebody to listen; They never sound menacing. They sound more like they are calling, willing him to understand. He can’t, maybe They are trying to warn him – he always keeps his door locked at night. They aren’t saying anything tonight – Tweek’s mind is oddly clear, spacious even. 

 

Tonight is a good night, he decides, even if he can’t remember the beginning of it. That’s the beauty, really: the night can go anywhere from here, so if he decides it’s a good night then that’s what it will be. You are supposed to bring good things to yourself – not even ask for them, you are to  _ demand _ them. At least, that’s what everybody always seems to say.

  
_ “Think about good things, Tweek, don’t dwell on thoughts that make you unhappy.” _

_  
_ _ “Stay positive.”  _

_  
_ _ “Stop being so negative, you are inviting these feelings in and bringing this on yourself _ .” 

  
No. Tonight is a good night from here on out. He demands it.    
  


“You’re awake.” 

 

Oh shit, that was a  _ real _ voice. Tweek whips around to face it; his too-long, shaggy blond hair follows a second later. The voice belongs to Henrietta Biggle, who is smoking a cigarette (when isn’t she?) and looking mildly amused.

  
“Oh…  _ ha, _ ” is all Tweek can manage to muster. He wasn’t really expecting to see her.

  
“You’re awake,” she repeats, “but apparently brain damaged.”

  
“So no different from every day then,” he replies, suddenly finding his feet. 

  
She’s laughing now, but it’s a kind laugh—not mocking or sarcastic.  Tweek is genuinely surprised because sarcastic is kind of her M.O. 

 

“Did  _ you _ bring me _ -ack!- _ out here?” His thumb twitches a little as he speaks – he ignores it. (Not tonight, it’s a good night, remember?)

  
“No, I saw Kenny bring you out here before and he was like, ‘I’ll be back’, and never fucking came back. That was like, an hour ago. We were betting on whether you were dead or not.”

  
“Not yet,” he says, and lowers himself back down into the cool, damp grass. The sensation is so weirdly soothing. He definitely understands why his past self chose to pass out here.    
  


He’s about to close his eyes and drift off into unconsciousness again, but then his rare moment of quiet is rudely cut short with a piercing,  _ “Tweek!” _

  
It’s Bebe, flanked by Clyde and Craig – all three are red faced and wild-eyed. Craig, in particular, looks upset. 

 

Oh no.

  
“What the everloving fuck, Tweek!?” He doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance, and Tweek shrinks a little at the volume. “We’ve been looking for you for hours!”    
  


“We were calling your name and everything,” Clyde adds.

  
“More like 45 minutes,” Henrietta clarifies with a snort.

  
“Were you here this whole time?” shouts Bebe. “You didn’t think to  _ maybe _ let us know Tweek hadn’t like, I don’t know,  _ asphyxiated _ or something?!”

  
“No,” Henrietta says flatly. “It was more fun watching you run around. I knew he wasn’t dead.”

  
“You fucking  _ freak, _ ” Bebe grits out. Shit, now she’s pissed too.

  
“Don’t call her a  _ -nghhh- _ a freak,” Tweek says quietly.   
  


“OK, I won’t do that again,” Bebe replies. “And Craig won’t yell anymore. Right, Craig?”

  
“Look, if he’s okay – I’m out,” Craig fires back. “I swore I was done with this bullshit.”

  
“Fuck off then man, I don’t need you. Or your attitude  _ -GAH!- _ I’m not some kid you have to babysit!”

  
“Then why the fuck am I here, babysitting you?”

  
_ “Bye, Craig,” _ Clyde intervenes sharply, and gives Craig a light shove. “He’s okay, go be emo somewhere else.”

  
“God forbid I kill your vibe,” Craig snipes. His hands are jammed tightly in the pockets of his blue jacket. He turns to leave, shoulders hunched, muttering, “ _ whatever, fuck this” _ under his breath.

  
“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Bebe says, holding her hand out to help up Tweek. He doesn’t think he can trust her heels on this grass, though.

  
“Oh,” he acknowledges, but then adds, “can’t we stay here for a bit?”

  
“No,” and she sneers in Henrietta’s direction, “we  _ definitely _ cannot.”

  
“Come on!” Clyde is beckoning towards the house. “It’s warm inside!”

  
“No, it’s  _ hot. _ There’s a  _ -nghhh- _ big difference!”

  
“ _ Tweek. _ ” Bebe sounds so exasperated, god, he  _ is _ their freaking overgrown child.

  
“OK,” he relents, and takes her hand. She manages to stay upright despite his weight – girls are amazing. Tweek would have fallen in those heels in seconds; he’s convinced girls have superpowers that boys just don’t possess.

  
“I’m going to  _ kill _ Kenny,” Bebe whispers to Clyde, but Tweek can still hear it.  She has one arm linked with Tweek, and the other with Clyde, like a really weird 

threesome. This is who he is now - the third wheel, sad and single.  _ He’s _ the freak, not Henrietta. Even Craig has abandoned ship. 

_ Even Craig has had enough.  _

  
“I’m tired,” Tweek whines. Where the hell did his night go? Trust Craig to kill his night, always making it about himself. Like Tweek is out here trying to make  _ his _ life harder. He isn’t! If Craig maybe,  _ actually _ stayed away like he kept insisting he was going to do, then maybe he’d  _ actually _ realise that Tweek doesn’t need him. 

 

Tweek doesn’t want this Craig anyway. He wants the Craig who used to take him stargazing, the Craig who liked that he was weird and who would lie with him if he passed out on someone’s floor. 

 

“We’ll make up a bed for you upstairs,” Bebe says, but she won’t look at him.

Craig would have been looking at him. He liked it better when Craig was still here but not mad. 

 

He couldn’t stand mad Craig. 

 

“Do you want us to stay with you until you fall asleep?” Clyde asks. Clyde is so kind and patient. Tweek knows Craig isn’t going to stay with him tonight, or ever again.

 

“Yes,” he answers, quietly.

 

Maybe the night wasn’t a good one, but at least when things aren’t going your way, you can sleep them off. 


	2. Get Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda short, but hopefully a bit lighter than the last.

Get Free - Major Lazer

 

“Dude, do you think aliens know about us but like, just ignore us because we’re so awful?” Clyde asks Tweek while they’re both slumped on a small grassy hill and enjoying a cigarette. 

 

They aren’t at school, though they should be. Tweek can’t even remember the last time he went to school and actually retained any information. 

 

“I hope so! I’m not looking to get  _ -nghhh- _ enslaved anytime soon, man!” he replies.

 

“You’re so negative. You always jump to the worst possible scenario. Why can’t aliens be nice?” 

 

Clyde does have a point, but Tweek chronically keeps his expectations low to avoid disappointment. It’s easier to be angry and afraid of things than it is to love them.

 

“We’re  _ -hnnn- _ —we’re unhappy, and terrible as a species,  _ and _ we’re also intelligent. Can you imagine like, super intelligent aliens?  _ -hah!- _ Easily super villains. Look at dogs man, they’re so happy. That’s the right idea.”

 

Clyde doesn’t reply; instead, he exhales smoke into the crisp mountain air, making it just that little bit more polluted and toxic.  _ Nice metaphor, _ Tweek thinks to himself. 

 

“Listen,” Clyde breaks the momentary silence, “can I invite Craig to things now, or are you both just gonna keep bitching at each other?”

 

“I’m not the one with the,  _ -GAH!- _ the problem, man,” Tweek counters. “ _ He’s  _ the one who was all like,  _ -hnnn- _ ‘I need space. You’re so toxic, Tweek.’” He doesn’t even feel bad about the mocking tone his voice takes on when he repeats Craig’s dumb breakup excuses.

 

“You’re both kind of being shitheads,” remarks Clyde. “We all used to hang out together, and now I’m being accused of  _ choosing you.  _ Like I’m supposed to choose between mommy and daddy or something. It’s so stupid.”

 

“I’m Daddy, for the record. Jesus, Craig would be a  _ terrible _ mommy!”

 

“Can I invite him to stuff or not?”

 

“I told you, I don’t,  _ -nghh- _ I don’t care!” Except Tweek  _ does _ care. He cares a  _ ton.  _

 

Where the fuck does Craig get off trying to dictate everything like this, anyway?  _ Craig _ was the one who wanted to split up.  _ Craig _ was the one who talked down to him like he was a child.  _ Craig _ was the one who wanted to split their friendship group apart. 

 

Tweek certainly wasn’t the one who wanted any of that. 

 

Sure, they weren’t perfect—but Tweek was pretty willing to work on it. He’d felt so sure that Craig was his person and vice versa. Clearly, that was immature and naive of him. 

 

Tweek can’t bring himself to admit it out loud, but he  _ wants _ Craig to come back. He wants him to say he’s sorry; that it was all a terrible mistake. The last thing he wants, though, is Craig getting the idea that he can’t cope without him. He’s sick and tired of Craig acting like he needs a constant babysitter. 

 

“Invite him to things,” huffs Tweek, “but if he gets in my space, I’ll punch him.  _ -GAH!- _ He’s not my boyfriend anymore, so it’s okay.”

“That’s fucked up, dude,” Clyde says with a frown. Tweek just shrugs. 

 

“What can I say,” he quips. “Guess I’m just  _ toxic. _ ”

 

\--

 

Tweek felt so rough that morning, even though he spent Sunday night sober. He spent the majority of Sunday hungover, curled up in a bed with Kenny and Heidi after collapsing in Token’s guest room. That was generally what happened at their parties: there were never enough beds so everyone just piled on each other. When he’d first fallen asleep, Clyde and Bebe were in the bed with him, and he woke up sandwiched between Kenny and Heidi. 

 

When he and Craig were still together, sometimes they managed to sneak away and steal a bedroom for themselves. It was easy to do if you decided to crash before midnight. They didn’t always have sex; sometimes they were too fucked up to even try, but it was nice just to curl in on each other. 

 

Tweek felt safe with Craig in a way he had with no one else. It wasn’t that the whispers went away, or that Tweek suddenly didn’t feel the need to lock the door, but he trusted Craig to keep them both safe. 

 

Toward the end of their relationship, they’d reached the point where they spent most of their nights together anyway. Sometimes they alternated beds and houses, but they mostly slept at Tweek’s house since his parents were never home. Even when they  _ were _ home, they never seemed to notice the way their house reeked of weed - though Tweek sometimes wondered if they  _ really  _ didn’t notice, or if they just didn’t care. 

 

They didn’t seem to notice when Tweek and Craig reeked of sex, either. 

 

Tweek never had to ask his parents’ permission to go to parties, and whenever the school called about his pathetic attendance, they never seemed to be around to pick up the phone. They used to put him to work at their coffee shop, but after he continuously showed up either hungover or stoned, they decided his behaviour had become  _ “too erratic and inconsistent”  _ so for now, he’s jobless. Not that they ever paid him, anyway.

 

He’d been told to focus on school and on improving his attitude. Tweek enthusiastically did neither of these things, and proceeded to spend his days getting stoned and feeling sorry for himself.

 

He was essentially a free agent to fuck up his life as much as he wished.

 

Clyde and Bebe were the only reasons he wasn’t completely friendless, once Craig had dumped him. Clyde, in particular, would go out of his way to drag Tweek out of his house, often dropping by to make sure he attended whatever party was happening that weekend. 

 

Tweek could admit to himself that he probably  _ did _ spend way too much time with Craig, and not enough with his long-suffering friends, but he wasn’t really able  to stop himself. It was incredibly easy for the both of them to just cocoon themselves away from the rest of the world. It really wasn’t uncommon for them to lock themselves in Tweek’s room for days at a time and do nothing but smoke, drink and fuck until one of them passed out. 

 

It was pretty easy to say “fuck it, I’m not going” when the person in your bed beside you was saying the exact same thing. And it was easier to say “yes” to Clyde when the only things keeping Tweek company were smoke and misery. 

 

Before he started dating Craig, Tweek had never been in a committed relationship. He couldn’t have predicted that his first relationship would end up so  _ serious _ \- he’d always held the awareness that teenage relationships often weren’t. 

 

He can remember when going out with someone for three months was considered a long time. (Stan and Wendy’s drama now feels like it was decades ago.) Frankly, to Tweek, relationships just didn’t seem worth all the effort… let alone the drama. 

 

Tweek didn’t quite understand his own feelings, either. At fifteen he’d started having sex—and he enjoyed it—but he knew he wasn't in love with anyone. He wasn’t totally sure what love was even supposed to  _ look _ like until he started spending more of his time with Craig. Back then, Tweek was hanging out with Kenny a lot more, but they both ended up sort of migrating over to Craig’s group. 

 

In retrospect, this was probably just because Tweek wanted to be closer to Craig, but Kenny humored him all the same. Kenny had been the link between Craig and himself, and despite Tweek’s and Kenny’s shared, complicated history, Kenny had been all over the idea of getting them to hook up. He was a connoisseur of chill vibes, and Tweek respected the way he didn’t get caught up in feelings and other bullshit.

 

Hopefully he found someone new to mess around with.

 

Craig had always been coy about his sexuality. Sometimes Tweek caught vibes, but he was never secure in himself enough to ask.

 

He had no idea if Craig liked dudes. Even if he did, why would he be into Tweek? Back then, Tweek was chubbier, and just as awkward and spazzy. He didn’t have a suave bone in his body, and on the outside, Craig looked like he could be suave. But Craig had always been much more conventionally attractive in the tall, dark and handsome kinda way. 

 

Of course, he wasn’t as smooth once he opened his mouth, but Tweek always found that endearing. Craig was also someone who Tweek believed was never lying to him. He’d always come across as blunt yet even-handed. No emotion, just logic. If Craig told him he looked nice on a particular day, it was probably true. 

 

Tweek was the first person Craig ever had sex with, and even though their cherry-popping wasn’t mutual, Tweek still feels that it had to mean  _ something _ significant.

 

That night wasn’t even Tweek’s first go around, yet it felt like a long overdue Big Bang straight from his heart. His universe filled and expanded to accommodate the new intensity of his love. 

 

Sex seemed to enter a whole new dimension when love became involved. 

 

Even after the honeymoon period wore off, Craig still managed to catch Tweek off-guard and amaze him with some trivial thing he did. When you love someone, Tweek learned, you pick up on the little things. Stuff you may not have cared about or even  _ noticed _ before, it all becomes so obvious and so beautiful.

 

Craig is ugly when he cries, his laugh is irritating, he often has guinea pig fur on his clothes, and he’s an obnoxious smartass. 

 

And Tweek loved— _ loves _ —all those things about him. He loves Craig for his vulnerability. That he needs to be held. That he’ll talk for hours about constellations. That his eyes crinkle whenever he smiles. All of these things are details Tweek doesn’t know how to delete from his memory banks, and every reminder of them squeezes painfully at his heart.

 

He still loves the fuck out of Craig Tucker.

 

And he  _ hates _ it.


	3. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my shortest for the whole fic, sorry that the update took longer than I expected, I had a super busy week at work. But I'm back and will continue to update regularly. I will post chapter four this week too to make up for my absence and for the shortness of this update. Thanks.

Breathe - Jax Jones

 

Tweek hunches himself over his bench and rests his face in his hands. He had decided to come to school today, and now he’s in science class- he regrets coming already.

 

_ Craig _ is in his science class, and they still have to share a bench, seeing as they have all the same friends. 

 

Craig is seated at the opposite end and talking loudly and inanely. Tweek ignores him, because he has a feeling that if he bothered to interject, Craig would just say something nasty and that’d be it - they’d be separated and Tweek would probably have to sit at a different bench, maybe even more miserable than he already feels. 

 

And that isn’t even the worst of it; Tweek might be ignoring him in the flesh, but he’s still daydreaming about Craig. He feels like he always is these days, but about the old Craig, not this one. Not angry, shouty Craig, but Craig when they were still together - still nice to one another. 

 

Craig had been so obsessed with getting everything ‘right,’ which was part of what made their first kiss kind of funny. It was really impulsive; Craig said it was unofficial and didn’t count, but Tweek still secretly liked to count it anyway. His hang ups around romance were old fashioned compared to a lot of the people around them. Once they were officially dating he took such care to make everything ‘special.’ 

 

Craig was a lot more romantic than  him- h e planned dates, whereas Tweek probably would have just suggested blowing each other with a movie on in the background. Craig hadn’t even wanted to do  _ that. _ He’d wanted to wait because it was going to be his first time. Waiting was not a concept that Tweek had ever been familiar with in his entire life, but he felt he had to respect Craig’s weird hang ups, even if he didn’t share them himself. It kind of worked, because there was so much trust and emotion built up when they finally did. 

 

For the first time in his life sex had meant something to Tweek - and it was a nice feeling. A dangerous one, Tweek was now finding out, firsthand. 

 

He was having a hard time reconciling this Craig with the one that had called him toxic and up and left. 

 

God, was it wrong to still be thinking about it now‍? He still had private as fuck texts and pictures saved on his phone. How could he delete them when he was never going to have Craig like that, vulnerable and hot for him? Down the line or in person, ever again? 

 

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Just wipe all those memories from his brain? Pretend he’d never seen that special, intensely private side of Craig? 

 

The side nobody else had ever seen before? 

 

Even now, when Craig won’t even bother with a passing glance his way, angry tension thick between them, he still has to swallow down just how attracted to him he still is. Even when he’s being an absolute fuckrag he’s still unbelievably hot. He knows it’s definitely very wrong of him to be thinking about him like this in class, at least. 

 

He can’t help but stare at Craig’s  biceps and his broad chest through the old blue tee he has on. He can’t help catching the way his eyes look under the flimsy classroom lights. He sighs in frustratio n. He doesn’t think he can help any of it, not when all he has is the memory of Craig for his spank bank nowadays.

 

Tweek thinks maybe he’d care a little less if Craig was still  _ his.  _

 

The fact that he isn’t stirs something predatory up in him that he’s not sure he likes. It’s all just so  _ pathetic. _

He isn’t sure what’s worse, being miserable here or being cast out on his own. At least they have Token and Wendy sat between them as a human barrier. Tweek doubts it’ll be needed for long though, knowing his shitty work ethic will do him no favors to maintain his grades without his own personal tutor. 

 

He isn’t much of an academic. His thoughts sometimes race from one end of his brain to the other so quickly that nothing ever seems to stick. Much like bugs throwing themselves at a glass door or moths zapping themselves under light, his thoughts go splat against a wall and amount to nothing in the end. He’s pretty sure the only reason he’s in this class (a “smart” class) is because he  used to study with Craig, and apparently some of the shit  _ Craig  _ had said stuck. 

 

Tweek’s much better at creative subjects. He has a passion and natural aptitude for art. Painting, more precisely, but his actual grades were very much determined by his shot work ethic and (lack of) attendance. Tweek could do better in art if he just turned up more and did the work. He wasn’t really prepared to do either of those things. Foresight isn’t a strong suit of his.

 

He’d never been in the smart class for anything in his entire, mediocre existence. He’d heard a slew of _‘You can do better,’_ _‘You need to apply yourself,’_ and _‘You’re so lazy’_ s his entire academic career, so it had felt good at the time to have been placed in Craig’s class. Now he’d much prefer to be dropped down a level or two. At least then he’d be with Clyde or Bebe and that would be much more comfortable. 

 

“Okay,  _ but…”  _ Craig exclaims with such an authoritative tone that even Tweek snaps out of his depressing day dream to listen. “ _ Actually,  _ scientists have found bacteria on Mars, so  _ technically  _ aliens do exist.” 

 

Craig and his fucking scientific aliens. Tweek prefers his imaginative narrative of intelligent enslaver aliens.

 

“Craig, nobody gives a shit,” Token deadpans.

 

“Christ, even your aliens are boring,” Tweek hisses. He didn’t even mean to say it- it just slipped out before he had time to shut his mouth. 

 

“Being in a relationship with you was pretty boring, so you’d know I guess,” Craig shoots back. Tweek knows that he should say he’s sorry, that he should’ve just stayed out of it, but he can’t. Not when people are watching them and Tweek feels like he has to prove he isn’t a complete fuck up- even though he clearly is.

 

“Because  _ I  _ was the boring one right?  _ -Nghhhh- _ even though you only ever wanted to  _ get  _ fucked! Never do any of the  _ -GAH- _ fucking yourself!”

 

“You know what, I’m the boring one. You were the  _ psycho  _ one!” Craig quickly fires back. His cheeks are tinged red from being called out in front of the class. 

 

Craig has always been pretty private about their sex life and Tweek knows it.

“Can you fucking stop?” Token cuts in. “You don’t have to be so nasty. It’s exhausting. Nobody gives a shit who fucked who.” 

 

“ _ I  _ know that!” Craig says. “I’m not the one who yelled it out to the fucking universe!”

 

“I kinda care,” Wendy says. “I had money on Tweek being the bottom, no offense.”

 

“People bet on that?” Tweek asks. She nods.

 

“Cartman has a pool. Whoever bet on Craig has just won big.”

 

“I didn’t bet,” Token says, “for the record.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a  _ -hnnng- _ a bottom,” Tweek says. “It’s not an insult so I’m not offended, fucking hell.”

 

Craig is looking at him from across the bench with an unreadable expression. Tweek feels a little bad for yelling something so private to the class.

 

“Sorry I um, sorry I  _ -nghh- _ sorry I said that,” he says quietly.

 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Craig says, but Tweek doesn’t feel convinced. “Meet me in the library at lunch - I want to have a proper  _ private  _ talk.”

  
_ ‘At least they don’t allow yelling in the library,’ _ Tweek thinks.


	4. Saturnz Barz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four as promised! This one is longer, and the chapters will be a similar length from here on out! :)

Tweek rarely went to the library. Mostly because it was indoors, and Tweek was rarely at school to begin with. If he  _ was _ at school then he wasn’t indoors, or in class; he was usually among the trees and bushes that the school backed onto. Behind the rundown art buildings where they could smoke without getting caught. Tweek was a little surprised Craig hadn’t asked to meet him there, but he supposed there was always a danger of other burnouts listening in. 

 

The library was small, around the size of one and a half classrooms. The whole school was small, hence why so many people were interested in their dirty laundry. 

 

It was the kind of school where teachers you’d never had still knew your name and face. Tweek knew everybody in his class, knew most of their parents even, and he could list a good deal of their siblings, too. 

 

The school itself is old and underfunded; low population means low enrollment, and low enrollment means minimal funding. The chairs and tables are chipped and graffitied, the computers are still boxes, and Tweek doesn’t remember the last time the library actually got any new books. He’s pretty sure it’s a miracle that the student body aren’t all addicted to heroin considering how dull the town is. 

 

Tweek is already about five minutes late and it’s mostly because Bebe had wanted to give him a pep talk about _“not getting back together with Craig.”_ Which is _clearly_ not going to happen after Tweek’s outburst in science class.

Tweek still hurries anyway, a small bit of hope still bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Craig  _ will  _ change his mind and maybe they can pretend this had all been some awful dream. Tweek would still take him back, even if he called him a psycho in front of their science class, even though he was so nasty, and even if he treated him like a child he had never wanted. 

 

Tweek’s pretty sure there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to have Craig back. He hasn’t said it out loud though. That would be pathetic.

 

At least meeting alone means they have no audience to perform for, and maybe Tweek can actually say what he means for once instead of just arguing back and forth. 

 

He spots Craig almost immediately- he’s seated at a gnarly looking table with a dick carved in the corner, scrolling boredly through his phone.  _ Of course _ Craig would sit at the dick table , Tweek can’t help but snicker to himself, he probably hasn’t even noticed it’s there. 

 

Tweek is quick to fall into the chair opposite Craig’s, deflated and a little out of breath from hurrying from his last class/lecture from Bebe. 

 

“You’re late,” Craig states, and looks up at Tweek from his phone screen.

 

“Bebe wanted to chat.” He’s still panting a little bit. Christ he’s unfit, he’s got no idea what capacity his lungs must be functioning at. Maybe minus 5? Who knows. 

 

“Listen,” he says. “Token is completely right. This bickering back and forth is really stupid. We have all the same friends so we should at least try to be civil.”

 

“I was trying,” Tweek says, his brow crinkled in confusion. 

 

It really was Craig who was nasty to him first. They’d mostly ignored each other right after the initial break up, which made Tweek sort of want to scream the entire time. He didn’t really have anyone he was close to in the way he and Craig had been. There wasn’t anybody who he could confide in anymore - he’d lost his boyfriend and best friend in one fell swoop. 

 

“I know you were. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that at Token’s on the weekend - it’s your problem if you want to get messed up. I need to stop making it mine.”

 

Tweek brings his eyes to meet Craig’s and he’s genuinely surprised just how earnest they look. Tweek hadn’t expected Craig to apologise or own up to any sort of poor behaviour. He’d expected Craig to chew him out and tell him to stay the fuck away.

“Sorry I told everyone you’re a  _ -hnnn- _ a bottom ” Tweek says, quickly averting his gaze from Craig’s. 

 

Craig shrugs but Tweek knows he’s only trying to be nonchalant.  He knows how badly he hurt him. Not because everybody knows now, but because he's fully aware of how sacred Craig's private life is to him.

 

“You look skinny,” he says. “Tell me you haven’t done something overdramatic like stop eating?”

 

Tweek frowns at him. Self-care isn’t Tweek’s strong point but he hasn’t started starving himself. He doesn’t miss Craig  _ that  _ much, Jesus. 

 

He gets Craig’s point even he knows he has lost weight but he’s going to attribute that to pure laziness. Sometimes he just can’t be bothered to go to the kitchen and make something. It isn’t some kind of self image problem - nor is it some weird kind of hunger strike. That’d be seriously fucked up. 

 

Tweek knows he’s always been a little on the chubby side due to eating like shit, getting drunk way too often and never exercising. He’s been self conscious about it since they got together. It’s also something that Craig said he loved about him and eventually Tweek hadn’t really felt the need to feel self-conscious. Not when Craig had seen every inch of his body and had still somehow wanted to bang. 

 

“No!  _ -GAH!- _ No way man! That’s messed up!” Tweek doesn’t really know what he can say to make Craig believe him. At the end of the day it’s not Craig’s problem whether Tweek eats three meals a day or not. 

 

“I’m worried,” Craig says. “I know I don’t have the right to be but I don’t want you to hurt yourself or anything.” 

 

“Jesus, I’m not gonna!” 

 

Craig had said he was going to stay away,  _ so  _ _ why hasn’t he? _

 

“Are you still hearing…  _ stuff?”  _ Craig lowers his voice to a hush, like he’s saying something forbidden or controversial.

 

_ “ _ You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!  _ -Ahhh!-“ _

 

_ “ _ I won’t,” he promises. “I just wanna know.”

 

“Sometimes, it’s _ -ah- _ okay though, I think they’re nice,” Tweek assures him. They don’t seem to be malicious even if they never speak in any kind of language Tweek can discern. 

 

Craig still looks concerned. Tweek doesn’t feel like he has the right to be when he’s the one who left in the first place. He bites his tongue so that he doesn’t tell Craig as much. Fighting all the time is just so miserable. 

 

“How’s Stripe and  _ -ack-  _ and Baby?” Tweek asks with genuine interest. He’s wanted to know this whole time but couldn’t really have a civilized enough conversation with Craig to ask. He figures at the very least they can move the conversation to lighter territory. 

 

The two guinea pigs were supposed to be a joint parenting effort originally, Stripe #5 being Craig’s pet from before they were together, and Baby, Tweek’s. Tweek bought Baby to keep Stripe company, but he was still supposed to be Tweek’s guinea pig, even though he lived at Craig’s.

 

When they broke up Tweek didn’t have the heart to separate them, so he’d let Craig keep Baby - he’d read online that guinea pigs get lonely when kept alone. 

 

“They’re good,” Craig says. “I’m looking after them properly if that’s what you mean.”

 

“No man, not at all,” Tweek says. “I know you are looking after them, I just miss them.”

 

Tweek is pretty sure Craig would go hungry if it meant his pigs didn’t starve; he doesn’t doubt the quality of Craig’s care.

 

“Oh, well I mean, I guess you could come see them sometime. Baby is yours so…” he says, staring intensely at the table instead of meeting Tweek’s gaze. 

Tweek wonders if he’s finally noticed the dick graffiti.

 

“Maybe sometime,” Tweek considers.

 

“I need to have my smoke. There’s no way I’ll get through  _ -hnnn- _ English with Clyde without it,” Tweek says, checking his watch for good measure. They’ve still got about fifteen minutes if they hurry.

 

“Okay,” Craig says. “Will I see you tomorrow?” ( _ Are you going to bother to come to school tomorrow?) _

 

“I dunno man, aren’t you coming with?” 

 

“No, I’m trying to quit,” he says evenly, challenging Tweek to call his bluff.

 

_ Oh,  _ Tweek thinks, trying not to giggle to himself,  _ that explains a LOT.  _


	5. Miserable Without Your Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So everyone, my computer has broken and I'm waiting for a new one to be sent to me sooo updates may be slower than I intended. I am trying my best to queue up a bunch of drafts so that everything can still go up once a week as I originally promised. 
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter five. It's not super upbeat and happy, but that's sort of how this story will roll. Some chapters upbeat, some more somber. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and I think the story really begins to pick up from here on out!

Miserable Without Your Love - Lily Allen

 

Clyde first put Craig and Tweek’s “truce” to the test that following Friday night. 

 

Their weekends were a rotation of parties. Sometimes big house parties at Token’s (his parents frequently were overseas, rich fuckers), sometimes small get-togethers at Clyde’s (Clyde’s dad was always at the bar and never really paid attention to what they did) and least often even smaller smoke-ups at Tweek’s (his parents were always working but big ragers made Tweek anxious). 

 

A get-together at Clyde’s  consisted of them all piling together either on couches or Clyde’s floor, playing video games, getting drunk, high or a combination thereof and eating too much junk food. It generally meant just the core of the group: Clyde, Tweek, Craig, Token, Jimmy, Bebe, and Nichole.

 

That meant less people to act as a buffer between Tweek and Craig.

 

Smoke hangs in the air and the whole room smells like stale tobacco and weed. (Clyde’s dad never seems to mind and Tweek is starting to think maybe he smokes in the house too.) Despite the relaxed atmosphere, Tweek doesn’t want to be here. It isn’t even Craig being in his vicinity that’s putting him off. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he’s sort of counting down the minutes until everyone falls asleep. His friends aren’t being annoying or obnoxious - they’re just being themselves. 

 

Tweek feels flat, like all the funny things they say and do just bounce off his back. He stares at the wall instead. It’s a weird, empty ache, and the normality of his friends interacting with each other is just making it more obvious. 

 

The joint had been passed to Tweek a few times, and he’d taken maybe two or three hits, but he still isn’t feeling much of an effect. He knows he’s high functioning, but  _ Christ,  _ this is just boring. So when the joint makes its way back round to Tweek again, he passes and instead chooses to resume staring at his spot on the wall, right behind the TV. 

 

Tweek’s spot is plain, painted the usual creamy white. Every now and then, different, smaller spots appear in front of Tweek’s vision, and colours flash and dance. The spot’s proximity to the TV is the main reason nobody seems to notice Tweek spacing out. They all assume he’s just fixated on the bright flashing colours of Mario Kart that Token and Bebe are furiously both trying to win. 

 

It doesn’t make him  _ feel _ better, but it’s something to look at, at least. It’s much better than staring at the TV, where colours flick back and forth way too violently and quickly. No, the wall is much safer. The dots moving from the top of his vision to the bottom, very slowly, are much more comforting. They float to the floor with subtle grace, like a feather, a snowflake, a ballerina en pointe - his dad would have some stupid metaphor for this. 

 

Tweek is startled away from his spot by the weight of something in his lap.

Clyde had placed a plastic bowl full of chips (they smelt strongly like salt and vinegar) on his thighs. Tweek stares at them for minute before passing the bowl to Jimmy.

 

His stomach clenches uncomfortably and he feels slightly sick. He isn’t about to force himself to eat when he isn’t hungry - even if it doesn’t help Craig’s ‘ _ you don’t eat anything’  _ theory. He isn’t about to make himself feel worse for the sake of Craig's feeling better.

 

It doesn’t stop Craig from looking back at him as the bowl changes from his hands to Jimmy’s. Like Craig still has some right to watch over him and worry. Tweek bites his tongue and instead exhales long and shakily in an attempt to release some of the tension in his belly. Craig wouldn’t believe him if he told him anyway. 

 

He desperately wants to sleep, but the constant squeezing of his stomach just won’t let up. Everything would be so much easier if he could just pass out like Craig sometimes did when they were still together. Back then, even if Tweek couldn’t manage to sleep himself, he at least had Craig’s steady breaths to focus on. The rise and fall of his chest was mesmerising. He’d often have the weird middle of the night thought that the rhythm was keeping him safe. Craig was a pretty clingy motherfucker, and even now he’s proving that by his constant insistence in popping up to check on him. 

 

Craig always liked to hold him tight through the night as though he thought Tweek might evaporate by morning. Tweek is pretty sure the holding was more for Craig himself than it was about Tweek actually needing to be held. Not that Tweek would ever bring that up- he liked to think that Craig felt better thinking Tweek needed his protection. 

 

Who was he to spoil that?

 

Tweek isn’t sure what time it is when his friends finally pass out. Maybe two-thirty, or three am- Tweek had been staring at the clock for so long the numbers were beginning to lose their meaning. 

 

He’s so incredibly tired but his eyes just won’t droop despite the echoing emptiness in his head. There aren’t even thoughts polluting his brain- just heaviness sinking slowly from his head to his chest. He doesn’t even notice his vision being obscured by a shadowy blob, not straight away anyway.

 

“Tweek.”

 

The blob can speak, nice. It takes his sleep deprived brain a second to adjust but when it does he realises that the blob isn’t actually a blob. The blob is Craig, who is standing over him looking at him with tired eyes.

 

“Tweek, go to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” Tweek slurs back, and God, he just wants to sleep. 

 

“Oh,” Craig says. “I gotta piss. I’ll be right back.”

 

_ “ _ Okay.”  _ Like I care. _

 

Craig quickly vacates Tweek’s line of vision and he’s left staring at the wall again. 

 

Clyde and Bebe have retired to Clyde’s dad’s bedroom and have graciously donated Clyde’s room to Jimmy. Nichole and Token are snuggled up together on the floor sharing a sleeping bag like the sickeningly perfect unit that they are. Craig had also made himself a small blanket nest slightly to Token and Nichole’s left, and Tweek was supposed to get the couch. He hadn’t moved from his spot earlier, even though he knew that he wasn’t about to be falling asleep sitting up with his back against the couch. 

 

The quiet of the witching hour is in such a contrast to the happy sounds of his friends chatting only hours before. The white noise of Clyde’s fridge humming is almost deafening by comparison. It’s so quiet he actually hears Craig’s light footsteps as he makes his way back to the living room. 

 

He is genuinely surprised when Craig plops himself down next to Tweek instead of snuggling back into his makeshift blanket nest. 

 

“Are you having a thing?” Craig whispers.

 

“Maybe, I don’t _ -hnnn- _ I don’t know.” 

 

“Do you want me to take you home?”

 

“No.”

 

Craig bites his lip while he thinks something over, something he hasn’t bothered to say out loud. He looks at his hands for what feels like a near eternity before he pulls Tweek’s body closer into his own. Tweek is quick to slot himself in as close as he can, where he has always seemed to fit so well. He doesn’t even bother to feign some kind of resistance. Instead he buries his face into Craig’s shoulder just like he’s done so many times before.

 

“I still care about you, Tweek,” Craig whispers into the darkness, “and it doesn’t seem to matter what I say or what I do. I can’t stop worrying about you.”

 

The mixed signals make Tweek want to strangle him - why does he have to be so vague all the time? Craig made such a song and dance about him needing to stay away and he just… hasn’t. 

 

Tweek is sure Craig has seen every side that there is to him, the “I can’t get out of bed” side, the “I hear voices” side, the “I clean the kitchen at 2am” side, and even the “fuck me three times in one night back to back” side. Craig just calls the weird shit “having a thing” and Tweek had been under the impression that these “things” were what he was trying to get away from. 

 

Tweek can only roll his eyes, although he’s pretty sure Craig can’t see it in the dark. 

 

“Then why’d you leave me?”

 

“I need to be by myself for a while,” Craig says, and holy hell does that make Tweek’s urge to strangle him reappear. What kind of shit cliche is that? 

 

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard,” Tweek scoffs. He can't help it- Craig’s caused all this misery because he  _ needed to be by himself.  _ Fuck that noise. 

 

“I don’t have a better one, sorry. It’s the truth.” Even Craig himself seems to cringe at the excuse, like he knows just how lame it is but isn’t going to elaborate further anyway. 

 

“Do you love me though? You loved me right?” 

 

“I love you, present tense. I can’t be your boyfriend though, not right now.”

 

Craig rubs his thumb softly over Tweek’s upper arm where his hand rests. It’s stupidly comforting even if Craig is saying the exact opposite of what he wants to hear. 

 

“Do you want me to sleep with you on the couch?” Craig asks. “Platonically though.”

 

Tweek sighs.

 

“Sure, platonically.”


	6. Party Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter six. This chapter was actually the first part of the story I started working on like, four or so years ago when it was a tiny baby idea! It's been in my head for that long, and I've been wanting to write it for ages. For me, it's surreal to be posting this and sharing it after hoarding it in my docs for so long! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it's an awfully special one for me.

Party Monster - The Weeknd

 

The fog has lifted, the smokescreen cleared and all Tweek can do is stare at him. 

 

Against the speaker, long limbs move with ease, carefree while the bassline thuds so hard Tweek can see the ripple effect in the pool inches from his feet. 

 

He doesn’t understand, why is he here, joint in hand having a crappy time while Craig gets to have fun dancing with Kenny just across the way? How come Token has the biggest house out of everybody Tweek has known ever and he can still feel Craig’s presence radiating like a solar flare. 

 

Craig is like the bassline to the pool – when he’s around Tweek is always going to feel the ripple effect.     
  


“Hey, Tweak?” Wendy calls from her perch, laying by the pool in her tiny bikini which leaves nothing to the imagination, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night. Tweek again wonders if girls have special superpowers that make them immune to the cold.

 

“Earth to Twink? Hello?” she tries again, right, his attention, she wants it.   
“ _ -Ngh-  _ What Wendy?”   
“You look pathetic, come sit over here and at least try to look like you’re not stalking Tucker. There are other people at this party, you know?” she says, and Tweek knows better than to argue. She was his friend before Craig and she’ll continue to be his friend after – plus if anybody understands his current predicament it's Wendy. 

 

Tweek sits down on the edge of her chair, she shifts herself over to make room and he leans down and puts his lips up to her ear.   
  


“Do you think  _ -ah!-  _ nobody has noticed you glaring at Bebe and Clyde all night? Pot. Kettle. You.”    
“At least you don’t have to watch your ex dancing with someone new all night. “The closest Craig’s gotten to any action after he ditched you is jumping up and down over there with McCormick.”   
“That’s true” Tweek says “you can have that.”   
  


Tweek inhales, Wendy stares sadly to her right – Bebe and Clyde are kissing on Token’s patio, neither of them have spared a glance her way. 

Tweeks pretty sure her bitterness is contagious and the last thing he wants is her  _ my girlfriend left me for a guy  _ type of misery invading his weekend.

 

Clyde and Bebe break apart to go head inside, Tweek follows them since there is no Craig and no Wendy inside. He stubs out his joint and opens the patios glass sliding doors – what else is there left but to lose yourself, after all?   
  


Token’s living room is beyond packed, Tweek figures between Token and Kenny most of the school is probably here. He fights the crowd, searching for somebody he knows when he sees Clyde – who signals him from the kitchen. Bebe is perched atop Token’s benchtop beckoning Tweek over.   
  


Clyde is holding a large bottle of tequila “What do you think?” he yells over the music.   
“ _ -Hnnn-   _ Why not” Tweek replies and gives Clyde a thumbs up as he pours a generous amount of Tequila into three large plastic cups. 

 

“Hell Yeah!” Bebe says, winking at Tweek while Clyde fills what’s left of their cups with orange juice. Clyde hands Tweek his cup and makes a smoking gesture at him, Tweek dutifully reaches into his pocket and hands Clyde a pre-rolled joint which he is quick to light and inhale – he offers Tweek his lighter but he just shakes his head and turns his attention to the alcohol. 

 

Tweek downs his in almost in one go even if it appears to be ¾ tequila. The alcohol sets his throat alight and makes him want to vomit slightly. But once it’s gone it’s gone – and that’s it.   
  


Bebe is quick to leap off the bench and lead the two boys back into the crowd, reflexively, Tweek grabs the tequila bottle and places it behind one of Token’s expensive couches. It’s the groups designated spot and anybody caught stealing will be ex-communicated. 

 

Tweek lets himself close his eyes and lets his body move to the music, the alcohol hitting him quicker than he anticipated – but he supposes he was already comfortably stoned, even if he is becoming a bit of a high-functioning stoner. 

 

Tolerance, it’s a funny thing and apparently Tweek has plenty for weed and none for alcohol tonight. 

 

He opens his eyes to a close-up of Clyde and Bebe kissing which is a visual he does not need. Tweek is about to turn away when Bebe catches his shoulder, he turns back round to face her when suddenly her lips come crashing down on his. 

 

If Tweek had better reflexes he’d have pushed her away then and there, but apparently stunned mullet is his choice of reaction tonight – it’s only when Bebe slides a small pill in his mouth that he gets it. 

 

She removes her face from his and shrugs “Sorry” she whispers “People are being fucking moochers tonight” she clarifies, Tweek swallows and turns to look at Clyde, he grins, gives Tweek a thumbs up and winks. Tweek shrugs – Clyde and Bebe have always been weird, even before they were together.

 

Tweek isn’t really much of a pill popper, never has been, not really too much of drinker either. He never had to be – getting stoned with Clyde was really all he needed, or even Craig back when they were together. Sometimes Tweek has been known to take Ecstasy, like tonight, but never anything harder. 

 

He makes his way back to the couches and pours himself another generous drink, because why not? Tonight Tweek is looking for excess – all or nothing, do or die. 

 

Tonight Tweek wants to forget he’s even a person, forget people are even a thing. Maybe later, when he’s off his head enough he’ll let Heidi dance with him and play with his hair. 

 

Heidi has such a weird cute, schoolgirl crush on Tweek which he predominantly tries to ignore but interacting with her always made Craig jealous. Craig is very capable of jealousy when the right buttons are pushed and even though they have their “truce” Tweek is more than happy to push them. 

 

The alcohol burns his throat but Tweek drinks the Tequila straight even if he gags straight after. He’s bent over, grabs his knees, deep breaths. He’s going to be fine, in a minute, he waits for the nausea – the initial shock to his system to pass, and it does. 

 

He wobbles a little as he heads back over to Clyde and Bebe, unsteady on his feet but he does regain his equilibrium. 

 

Only to be thrown off by a body blocking his path. This body belongs to Heidi, Tweek wonders if maybe he is psychic – or she is?    
  


“Hello Tweek!” she chirps, it hurts Tweek’s ears a little despite at the same time sounding muffled and far-off. Tweek frowns at the contradiction his brain has just fed him. Tweek’s non-response doesn’t seem to have thrown Heidi one iota. 

 

“Are you having a good night? It must suck seeing Craig here right? Shame you guys broke up, I thought you looked good together” she keeps talking and Tweek isn’t quite sure how to answer her.

 

“Hey, are you alright?” she asks.   
“Oh, yeah…” Tweek trails off, he wonders if Craig has thought about him at all since last night, stolen glances when Tweek isn’t looking? Tweek wonders if Craig misses him, if he misses Tweek the same way Tweek misses him? 

 

Tweek is jolted out of his reverie, there’s a hand on his face, it’s Heidi’s. He jumps.   
  


“Oh honey, don't even worry” she says “there are so many better things waiting for you, I promise.”   
  


Tweek suddenly doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore because there isn’t anything better why can’t anybody else see? Why can’t Craig see? Tweek can’t be with anyone else, not when Craig’s there. He can’t do this now, not today.   
  


“Uh, t-thanks Heidi ” Tweek fumbles in reply “I have to  _ -hnnn-  _ to go, I told Bebe I’d be right back”    
  


Tweek doesn’t like to lie, but sometimes circumstance negates it.    
  


He weaves through the bodies, stumbling and resisting the dizziness taking over his brain he fights his way to the door and launches himself at the glass a little too forcefully. He hits it with a dull thud and nobody seems to notice. He tries not to think of it as some sort of metaphor for his life, he closes his eyes as he fumbles with the handle. He doesn’t even know if Clyde and Bebe are outside but fuck does he need a smoke. 

 

Craig is still being a fucking idiot over near the speakers with Kenny. Craig can’t dance for shit, granted neither can Tweek but he will take any opportunity to laugh at Craig he can get. 

 

Much to his surprise Bebe  _ is  _ outside, leaning against the outside wall of Token’s house and smoking a cigarette. She’s sans Clyde though, which doesn’t actually surprise Tweek - Clyde is the kind of guy who values ‘bro time’ whatever that means. Bebe gives Tweek a small wave to call him over, a smoking buddy is much better than no smoking buddy, so he makes his way over. 

 

Tweek wonders if her legs, uncovered by her tiny black velour mini skirt are cold or if her high-heeled feet are sore. He wonders this every time she, or any of the girls really dress up for a party and choose aesthetic over comfort. 

 

Tweek isn’t exactly fashionable by any genders standards and while he knows socially speaking he  _ should  _ try to look nice he just can’t be bothered. 

 

He rarely brushes his hair, wears t-shirts with coffee stains and holes that are three sizes too big and his jeans are rarely washed. He favours deodorant over showers, whatever, it’s all a social construct anyway. 

 

“You got a light or do you need mine?” Bebe asks him and Tweek is quick to wave her off before she reaches into her bra. He always has his own, he doesn’t want to borrow one covered in Bebe’s boob sweat. He reaches into his pocket to grab the lighter along with one of the several crumpled cigarettes. 

 

“I was hanging out with Wendy before” he says as he lights his cigarette, carefully as his shaking hands can manage so that it doesn’t fall apart between his fingers.

 

“Why?” Bebe says flatly.

“I like her, like how you still like Craig, man” Tweek says then taking a long drag on the cigarette. 

“But  _ you  _ still like Craig, I’m not interested in engaging with Wendy in any way” she says and Tweek forces himself not to roll his eyes at her. 

 

_ Really Bebe, you’re gonna pull that stupid Craig move too?  _ As far as Tweek can see Bebe is technically the bad guy here seeing as she broke up with Wendy with absolutely no warning and got with Clyde straight away. 

 

Bebe likes to prattle on about ‘negative energy’ and how Wendy was bringing down her spirit or something? Making her aura fade? Tweek’s not really sure - he tunes out everytime she starts up. 

 

Bringing up Craig though? Low blow Bebe. 

 

“I don’t wanna get back with  _ -nggghh- _ Craig” Tweek says meekly even though both he and Bebe know it’s pretty obvious that that’s not true. Bebe humors him though and lets it rest. 

 

“Wendy is bad news” she says “she’s a negative person and she’ll just bring you down further. Trust me when I say she’s bad for you.” 

Tweek exhales, he’s so done with other people deciding what is and isn’t good for him - he’s not an invalid, contrary to popular belief.

 

“Not everyone can be sunshine and rainbows all the time man. Not everyone’s like you and Clyde - it doesn’t mean they’re  _ -hnn-  _ toxic” 

“Craig’s word not mine” Bebe says. 

 

Tweek is so mad at himself for telling her. It’s just that he’d just been so angry at the time. He’d ranted and raved to anybody who’d been willing to listen  _ who the fuck does Craig think he is!  _

 

Words had just spilled out faster than he’d even been able to think them up. It was all out in the open now. His stomach churns at the thought, or maybe all the tequila, he’s not sure anymore. There’s a bunch of substances mixing grossly together in there that’s for sure.

 

“I hate you” he says, even though he doesn’t, not really. 

“You don’t” she laughs “you just need more positive people in your life okay, be friends with whoever you want. I just think Clyde and I are better influences on you than Wendy, or even Craig.” 

 

Again with the ‘Tweek’s a child and I know what’s best’  _ again.  _

 

“How bout I  _ -ah!- _ decide for myself, it’s not like you’ve got some kind of moral  _ -nhnn-  _ high ground considering you bailed on Wendy to hop on Clyde’s dick.” 

“You’ve never been in love with two people at once, it’s messy” Bebe sighs, like her relationship-hopping is something that can’t be helped. Like leaving Wendy just to take up straight away with Clyde was just an unavoidable fate - not a choice. 

 

Despite being a child who needs to be babied (apparently), Tweek’s starting to feel like he’s the only one here who is actually taking responsibility for their actions. 

 

“Messy is right, man” he says, going to take another drag. Craig and Bebe certainly aren’t and Clyde’s always got that dumb innocent grin on his face, like this was all Bebe’s idea and he’s just along for the ride. 

 

Tweek isn’t about all that star-crossed lovers bullshit, people make choices, choices have consequences. There’s no higher power or mystic force to blame - just stupid people.

 

“Don’t look now” Bebe says “but Mr. Toxic himself is coming over.”


	7. Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Tweek and Craig's poor decisions, don't drink with your ex guys!

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? - Arctic Monkeys

 

If Tweek didn’t already feel slightly queasy before, he  _ definitely  _ does now. Craig meanders over, his gait suggesting that he’s already several levels of fucked up.

 

Great. Figures Tweek’s struggling to find a high on the same night Craig’s off his stupid head on whatever shit Kenny is peddling. 

 

Was he not giving Tweek a lecture about his drug use a few days ago? Maybe Tweek made that up, sometimes it gets hard to tell. 

 

“Can I bum one?” Craig asks, gesturing to Tweek’s mostly smoked cigarette.

 

“Aren’t you  _ -hnn-  _ supposed to be quitting?” It comes out a little more condescending than Tweek means it to. 

 

“I’m off the wagon,” he says flatly.

 

“Have one of mine,” Bebe says. She reaches into her bra  _ again,  _ always with the fucking bra, and pulls out a cigarette for Craig. 

 

“You got a light too?” Craig asks her, and wow, Craig really was serious about quitting if he’d actually left his lighter at home. Craig was usually the type to always have a lighter on him, probably because he thought when he boredly burnt random objects he looked cooler. 

 

As a silent apology for his condescending tone earlier Tweek reaches into his pocket and hands Craig the absolutely battered black lighter he always carries. It’s had the shit scratched out of it, just from being dropped and the general wear and tear that accompanies a favourite object after you’ve carried it on your person long enough. 

 

The lighter has a little green alien face on both sides. His chest tightens when he remembers how Craig gave it to him after he’d spent the week in bed and refusing to communicate. It was a small cheer up gift and Tweek had held on to it tightly ever since. 

 

Craig stares at it for a good long while before deciding to take it, clearly also moved by the memory of its origins.

 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, as he lights the cigarette.

 

When he exhales, he makes sure to turn his head away from Tweek and Bebe so as to not blow smoke in their faces. Thanks, you vague asshole. 

 

“Apparently,” Craig says with a slight laugh, “I’m terrible at being sober.”

 

“You hang out with Kenny, dude,” Tweek points out. “He’s not really much better than  _ -hnn- _ me.” Tweek tries hard to keep his tone as self-deprecating as possible. 

 

He has zero beef with Kenny; Kenny deals the best weed in town but he also smokes  _ a lot.  _ He also spends a shit ton of time with Craig, even more so after the break up, so Tweek doesn’t really feel bad about pointing out the flaw in Craig’s logic. 

 

“I mean, you’re totally right,” he says. “Who did I think I was, thinking I could just up and quit everything?” 

 

‘ _ Probably smart,’  _ Tweek thinks, but doesn’t say aloud.

 

“How long did you last?” Bebe asks.

 

“A few weeks give or take? Not quite a month,” he says.

 

“That’s not bad at all man,” Tweek says, and he means it too. It’s longer than he’s gone in a long, long time. Craig is genuinely motivated to not fuck up his life—Tweek isn’t sure if he’s resentful or smug at this point. 

 

“You don’t have to go cold turkey,” Bebe says. “I heard it’s better to ease yourself off things.”

 

“I guess that’s plan B,” Craig says, his voice still at that even monotone he’s had since childhood. Tweek’s pretty confident in his ability to read through both the monotone and poker face but he knows Craig doesn’t usually like to let people get that close.

 

“I’m already pretty wrecked tonight,” he says, his face breaking into a lopsided grin. “This can be my last big blowout.”

 

There’s the Craig Tweek knows and loves—he echoes Craig’s grin.

 

“There’s tequila inside, if you want it?” Tweek offers.

 

“Hell yeah,” Craig says, holding out his hand for Tweek. Like he used to before, Tweek doesn’t hesitate to take it even though Bebe is giving him a judgemental look. 

 

“Take me to your leader!” Craig says, eliciting a giggle from Tweek.

 

Tweek does, guiding Craig through the glass sliding doors that had outsmarted Tweek earlier and inside into the thrumming living room. 

 

There’s  _ so  _ many people Tweek doesn’t even know here but that's because it’s a party at Token’s house. Token is one of the most popular people Tweek knows, maybe bar Bebe. Token’s house is huge so the parties are also appropriately sized. 

 

Tweek pulls Craig towards the couch that he wedged the tequila bottle behind earlier. It’s cheap, nasty shit, but it does the job just fine. 

 

“You want it straight, or?” Tweek asks Craig as they head towards the kitchen. Tweek hasn’t stooped to drink-straight-out-the-bottle levels yet and Token always keeps a ready supply of red solo cups in the kitchen cabinets. 

 

“Water that shit down,” Craig says. “I’m outta practice.”

 

“Baby,” Tweek replies as Craig hands him two pristine plastic cups. The last thing Tweek wants is to drink out of someone else’s dirty cup and get herpes or something else gross.

 

Tweek gets to pouring and makes his own more generous on the tequila side than Craig’s. Normally he’d make them equally generous but he’s trying his best to be mindful of Craig’s “watered down” wishes. He fills the remainder with the half-full orange juice still sitting on Token’s counter from before. 

 

“Bottoms up,” he says as he hands Craig his drink.

 

“Cheers,” Craig says, still grinning like a lunatic and clinking their plastic cups together.

 

Tweek wastes no time tipping his own back and chugging as much of it as his throat can manage. Craig is taking much more tentative sips but is watching Tweek in awe as he demolishes the drink.

 

“I forgot you could do that,” Craig says, looking a little misty eyed. “You’re definitely still my favourite person.” 

 

Tweek coughs involuntarily as he swallows his last fiery mouthful of tequila. 

 

“I’ve really  _ -nghhh-  _ I’ve really missed you, man,” Tweek says as earnestly as he can manage with his throat still tequila-raw.

 

“Me too,” Craig says sheepishly. He’s looking down at his hand which he’s running back and forth nervously over the edge of Token’s countertop.

 

“You wanna dance with me, maybe?” Craig asks shyly, and shit that’s cute. Tweek doesn’t need to think before he answers.

 

“Fuck yeah, let me top us up first though!” he says, reaching for his beloved tequila to pour another for him (he doesn’t bother with a mixer) and to further spike Craig’s drink. 

 

“I couldn’t keep up with you, even before I quit drinking.”

 

“Come on, you were sober for like three weeks? You can’t have lost that  _ -hnn- _ much of your tolerance,” Tweek says, and Craig shrugs in response.

 

“Not sure,” he says. “Can we dance now?” 

 

“Don’t be so  _ -hnn- impatient _ ,” Tweek says. “Lead the way.”

 

To avoid spilling cheap, gross tequila on Token's carpet, they both tip the last of their drinks back like shots. It tastes nasty, like paint thinner but it does its job even if he has to concentrate on not throwing up for like, ten seconds after. 

 

Craig grabs him by the wrists and pulls their bodies close together. It takes a hot minute for Tweek to process what just happened and his vision swims a little thanks to the alcohol.

Craig is smiling. “Missed ya,” he says sloppily, his hands wrapping around Tweek’s waist.

 

“You’ve said,” Tweek reminds him; he knew this was going to happen but he hadn’t expected Craig to put up so little resistance. He’d sort of expected Craig to be more like  _ ‘maybe we shouldn’t’  _ or at least sort of thoughtful about it. But Tweek’s not complaining,  _ at all.  _

 

“Stripe and Baby do too; you said you’d come round,” Craig’s rasps in his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation. Stupid fucking Craig.

“Are you okay?” Craig asks. “Stop me if you aren’t okay.”

 

“I’m so okay,” Tweek answers breathlessly. He cringes internally at just how pathetic he is.

 

Craig closes the space between their faces by pressing their lips together and it’s every bit as good as Tweek remembers it. Craig is quick to part Tweek’s lips and edge his tongue in; he tastes like cigarettes and booze but still undeniably Craig. Still his.

 

Craig’s hands are sliding over Tweek’s hips, and Tweek is quick to drape his arms around Craig’s broad shoulders and move his fingers through Craig’s dark hair. God he’s missed  _ his  _ Craig.

 

“You’re so fucking skinny,” Craig says when they break apart. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still hot as hell but there’s nothing to grab anymore.”

 

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” Tweek murmurs, pulling Craig even closer. 

 

“I like you either way, but I kinda miss your tummy, it was nice.”

 

“Craig, shut the fuck up or I won’t fuck you later,” Tweek grits through his teeth, because of fucking course Craig wants to ruin a nice moment by talking about his (lack of) chub. 

 

“I was thinking,” he says, voice low. “You said you were tired of doing all the fucking… can I?”

 

Tweek hazily remembers small arguments throughout their relationship regarding who was going to be on top. It’s not that Tweek doesn’t like being on top, he does, a lot, but sometimes you just want to do things differently. Craig always wanted to be on the bottom, every damn time, and it frustrated Tweek a lot more then he’d care to admit out loud. At least to anyone that isn’t Craig. 

 

Tweek doesn’t have to be asked twice.

 

“ _ -Nghhh-  _ of course Craig, but why now? You never wanted to when we were  _ -ah-  _ together.”

 

“Don’t laugh,” Craig says, “but I realised that if I ever topped someone it wasn’t gonna be you. I didn’t like that. I want my first time trying it to be with you.”

 

Tweek sort of does want to laugh but he doesn’t, because he knows Craig was a virgin when they first started dating. Tweek not so much, but Craig puts a lot more weight into sex than Tweek ever has and Tweek feels like it’s unfair to laugh at him for that.

 

“You can fuck me,” Tweek whispers, “literally any time you want.”

 

He hopes morning Tweek and morning Craig will be forgiving of their past selves.


	8. Be Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, stupid, stinky boys.

Be Careful - Cardi B

 

The first thing Tweek realises as he wakes in the morning is that his head aches. That isn’t unusual- -he wakes up with a headache almost every day. What’s different is the noise of the person groaning behind him. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” he moans reflexively, before he realises just  _ who  _ he has his arms wrapped around. 

 

Craig. Oops. 

 

They’re behind one of Token’s couches, in his living room. Double oops. 

 

There’s what Tweek has to assume is Token’s version of a skanky blanket (read: nicer than any Tweek owns) draped over them and Tweek has zero idea how it got there.

 

A good samaritan probably donated it to them which means everybody knows. 

 

If they didn’t already that is considering they’re behind a couch in Token’s goddamn living room. They’re such stupid horny idiots, damn it.

 

“Uhhh, Tweek?” Craig mumbles. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Mean to  _ -nghh-  _ what, man? Stick your dick in me? Worse things have happened to me,” Tweek says, voice still thick with sleep. 

 

Sometimes people get drunk and fuck at parties, it happens. Tweek isn’t out here expecting a marriage proposal. He’d rather get more sleep, honestly. 

 

“No, like leading you on,” Craig says quietly.

 

“Leading me what? Ugh, Craig too  _ -hnn- _ early,” Tweek moans. Emotional conversations are for when he’s awake, and doesn’t have a headache and a churning stomach.

 

“Do you wanna… um…” Craig trails off, clearly not finding the words he requires.

 

“ _ -Nghh-  _ What, Craig?” Tweek says, exasperated and way too hungover at this point.

 

“Separate?” Oh, he means stop spooning, right. If pressed to make a choice Tweek would prefer a warm body to cuddle over none.

 

“Do you wanna?” he asks. He doesn’t really mind either way. It’s more of a Craig thing to worry about ‘ _ what this might mean.’ _

 

“No,” Craig answers with a small voice, like he’s embarrassed to admit he actually likes the person he was in a relationship with for two and some years. 

 

“Then no, go back to sleep,” Tweek says. He’s so, so not having this conversation with Craig now, Preferably never ever, but if they must have it, then it’s happening at a decent hour. 

 

Craig snuggles in closer to Tweek, who wraps his arms around Craig even tighter.

 

Craig is a little taller and broader than Tweek but not by very much, and Craig still prefers to be the little spoon on most occasions. If Tweek was having a difficult time they might’ve switched, but predominantly, Craig’s place was  _ (is) _ in Tweek’s arms. Craig likes to be held more than he is willing to admit out loud. This is more about personal hang ups Craig has than anything to do with Tweek personally but Tweek is happy to accomodate that need even if it goes unspoken. He clearly didn’t need to be told last night.

Ugh, last night. Tweek remembers bits and pieces. 

 

He remembers dancing with Craig, probably embarrassingly terribly. He remembers the fiery feeling of straight tequila going down. He remembers Craig asking him if he could top… 

 

_ Oh, yeah.  _

 

This wasn’t Tweek’s first time bottoming, but it was his first time  _ with Craig.  _

 

His brain tells him that that should be important. 

 

He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore the thumping in his head. Feelings can wait surely. Tweek nuzzles his face between Craig’s shoulder blades and takes in his familiar scent. He doesn’t mind pretending, just while they sleep for an hour or so.

 

That fantasy is not to be, however- fate intervenes with the obnoxious buzzing of a phone and even worse, it’s Tweek’s phone. 

 

Who on this God-given Earth would be calling him? He’s a well-renowned piece of shit who definitely isn’t going to be contributing anything interesting or worthwhile to a conversation.

 

“Fuck!” Tweek moans. His phone is in the pocket of his jeans, which Craig threw  _ somewhere.  _

 

He feels like the space between his eyes might split open as he unwraps himself from Craig to look. It’s still buzzing and now Craig is bitching quietly about ‘shutting that thing up.’

 

He does find it eventually, amongst a haphazard pile of both his and Craig’s clothes in the corner near the wall.

 

“Hello?” hey says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he answers.

 

“Morning son,” Richard Tweak says calmly from the other end of the receiver.

 

“Morning,” Tweek echoes dumbly. His dad has to realise he’s stupidly hungover right? Surely? Sometimes he thinks his dad’s brain operates on some other wavelength so normal people cues and feelings just zoom right past him and over his head.

 

“Would you be able to mind the shop for a few hours son? I have to take your mother to the hospital.”

 

“The  _ -nghhh- what?!  _ What? Is she o-  _ -hnn-  _ okay?!” his head still hurts but he’s fucking awake now. What the everloving shit could’ve happened at like, eight-thirty in the morning?

 

“She’s going to be fine, just a small accident with the steamer,” he says which really only make Tweek feel more anxious. 

 

“Small  _ -ahh-  _ small accident?” 

 

“She’s burnt, all red like a baby’s cheek in the winter breeze. Just want to make sure she gets the right treatment,” he says, sounding so eerily calm in that way he always does. 

 

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just  _ -nnn-  _ just take her. I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.”

 

“Thank you son, you’re such a w-” Tweek hangs up on him or else he’d never stop. Trust his Father to prioritise a one-sided phone call over taking his wife to the hospital.

 

Craig is still lying down on the floor. He watches Tweek as he pulls on his jeans and shirt from last night.

 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

 

“My mom got  _ -hnn-  _ burned or something man. So I’m on shop duty.” 

 

“Burned?” Craig says, frowning. “Jesus Christ.”

 

“I gotta go,” Tweek sighs. “Let everyone know I didn’t die or whatever.”

 

He pats the pockets of his jeans just to be sure that his keys, phone, lighter are all there. He also finds two crumpled up cigarettes.  _ Lucky me.  _

 

“Bye, babe,” Craig says sleepily, his face buried deep into the blanket Tweek had left for him.

 

_ Babe. _

 

Tweek tries his best to ignore that.

 

The shop is only a short walk from Token’s place thankfully, so Tweek doesn’t have to beg some poor hungover soul for a ride. (It’d probably end up being Craig-- Tweek doesn’t want to entertain that idea.) He’s quick to light up one of the two messed up cigarettes he found earlier. He doesn’t know when he’s going to get another opportunity for a smoke break.

 

He wasn’t fired,  _ per se, _ from his “job” at the coffee shop, but his parents had stopped asking him to help because both he knew and they knew that he was doing a sub-par job. 

 

This is part of the reason he hasn’t bothered going home and changing or showering. His parents are expecting a shitty job from him too. 

 

Tweek never bothers to cover up whatever substance he smells like - he doesn’t really understand why his parents don’t seem to care or want to punish him. They live in a constant state of denial that even the best ecstasy Tweek’s ever done can’t replicate. 

 

_ Reality still persists. _

 

The more nicotine Tweek sucked into his starving lungs, the better his headache began to feel. It wasn’t gone, but it eased enough for Tweek to be able to stomach the idea of serving customers all day at least. Plus he knew he’d feel way better after a coffee and that thought kept him going. 

 

He hated mornings. The sun was always too bright for his liking, the birds squawked too loud and people who hadn’t had their morning coffee yet were total assholes. Tweek could attest to this because he was definitely one of those assholes too, he just preferred to sip his in a blanket cocoon in his bedroom, not go out in public taking his anger at the world out on baristas, but whatever, it is what it is. 

 

He reaches the doors to Tweek Bros. Coffee a lot quicker than he expects and he definitely doesn’t feel like his body is recovered enough to spend the day in customer service. Despite this he still takes one last long drag on the cigarette and reaches into his pocket for his keys. He’s had a key to the shop since he was small- seven or eight, maybe? Now at seventeen he feels like maybe that was a little too much responsibility to give to a kid, but whatever. He’s been pulling coffees and baking pastries since he was eight, serving customers and operating the till since he was around twelve, so nowadays he can definitely do an okay job at running the shop for a day. 

 

(He could do a great job if he actually gave a shit.) 

 

Thankfully his father had left him a large thermos of Tweek Bros. House Blend coffee on the counter to help take the edge off retail hell. It was mind-numbingly quiet. Tweek doesn’t understand why they didn’t just close the shop altogether seeing as it’s a Sunday. It’s so typical of his father though, to refuse to close the shop and possibly lose even the tiniest of bit of income. Tweek would much rather spend his Sunday sleeping off his hangover, preferably still cuddled up with Craig even if all their friends would give them shit about it when they realised. 

 

He figured he could always skip school on Monday to make up for lost sleep and maybe if he was lucky he could convince someone like Clyde or Kenny ( _ notCraignotCraignotCraig)  _ to join him.

 

He hadn’t eaten anything today bar drinking coffee, but that was mainly because food was the last thing his belly wanted at the moment. He felt gross. He knew he also looked and probably smelt gross based on the looks an older woman and her daughter had given him when he’d boredly taken their order. Their judgement didn’t really bother him. He just wanted to be able to curl up and die already. 

 

His dad had messaged him maybe an hour ago that he’d come in at three-thirty and do the close for the day, allowing that Tweek made sure his mother had dinner and was looked after at home, which relieved Tweek honestly- he hated close. 

 

He’s also pretty sure he’d do a better job at looking after his mother anyway. His dad was better at running a business - it’s only fair they stick to what they’re good at.

 

He doesn’t even bother to look up or even try to look like he’s working when he hears the chime of a bell. He’s only startled when he realises it’s not a customer walking through the doors - it’s Craig. 

 

He looks far better than he did before. Whilst Tweek obviously hasn’t changed or showered from the night before, Craig is in a fresh set of clothes and doesn’t overwhelmingly smell like cigarettes and weed. 

 

He doesn’t look totally fresh though; he’s wearing sunglasses and his trademark blue hat is pulled down as far as it will go. The worst part is Tweek knows he isn’t here because he just had a craving for coffee. Craig knew that he’d be here and he most definitely wants to have that emotional conversation Tweek had been hoping to avoid. 

 

He gives Tweek a vague nod as he removes his sunglasses and walks towards the counter.

 

“Can I get you anything?” Tweek drawls, trying to reiterate to Craig that  _ he’s at work. _

 

He may be completely unprofessional and incompetent at his job but his workplace is definitely not the place to have this conversation. Tweek is just glad his parents aren’t here to potentially eavesdrop. 

 

“I’ll have a small hot chocolate if it means you’ll talk to me?” Craig says. Tweek thinks he’s aiming for cheeky but it falls flat.

 

“$2.50,” Tweek says flatly. “Can we not do this? I’m at work man.”

 

“No one’s here,” Craig replies as he places a couple of bills on the counter. “I just want to get this over with.”

 

“Get  _ -hnn-  _ what over with?” Tweek says, one eyebrow raised as he turns his back to Craig to begin making the drink. 

 

“I feel terrible about last night,” he says. “I shouldn’t have been hitting on you like that.”

 

Tweek shrugs. “You asked me if I wanted to, I said yes and we  _ -ack-  _ we did it. It’s not like you made me.”

 

Craig scrunches his face up in discomfort. “I want us to be friends,” he says finally.

 

“Okay. Do you like milk?” Tweek asks.  

 

“Huh?” 

 

“In your hot chocolate you  _ -hnn- _ idiot,” Tweek sighs. 

 

In an ideal world Tweek would love for Craig to come crawling back and ask to get back together. He also knows that there’s no way Craig is coming here to do that. 

 

Tweek very much expected for Craig to feel like he made a mistake and to want to set boundaries. Best case scenario he’d want to be fuck buddies - worst he wouldn’t even want to try to be friends anymore. Tweek also had a sneaking suspicion, based on his drunken admissions, that Craig was never going to want the latter. 

 

“Oh… sure,” Craig says distractedly. He forces himself back on track though. “No Tweek, I mean last night was a mistake and it can’t happen again.”

 

“Okay, if you want,” he says as he adds the milk to Craig’s drink. “I didn’t think you were trying to get us back together for  _ -nghh- _ real, we were drunk man.”

 

“Good,” Craig says. He’s nodding his head but he has visibly deflated. 

 

He probably expected Tweek to start a fight or at least be more upset at the rejection, but Tweek is still feeling kinda buzzed from just how nice last night was. 

 

“I’m not expecting you to marry me,” Tweek says, “but if you wanna do it again I’d be okay  _ -nghh- _ okay with it.”

 

“I don’t think we should,” Craig says shyly, a quiet blush appearing slowly on his cheeks. 

 

“If that's what you want man,” Tweek says and shrugs again. “If you change your mind you  _ -hnn-  _ you know my number.”

 

He hands Craig his drink and smirks. “Have a great day!”


	9. Playing with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's for all the guinea pig lovers out there!

Playing with Fire - Blackpink

 

Tweek didn’t end up taking his Monday off to sleep like he expected. He just hadn’t felt like he needed it.

 

Even weirder? He felt like going to school and interacting with other people. Socially.

 

He took it as a sign from the Gods that having sex with Craig was in fact a great decision and he still felt kinda wired from it. 

 

Maybe it was just sex in general? He hadn’t been having any (well, with another person anyway) since splitting up with Craig. Maybe that was what he needed? Maybe it didn’t have to be  _ with Craig?  _ It could be with anyone he wanted really, though Tweek felt pretty confident in his ability to talk Craig round into doing it again. 

 

He felt rejuvenated by it- it was a nice feeling. He was almost starting to feel like his old self again. It’s not like he needed Craig, not really, but having him was a nice bonus.  

 

Craig sat next to Kenny on the school bus and Tweek slotted in across from him so that only the aisle was between them. He’d been so distracted by Craig that he hadn’t realised he’d sat down next to Heidi. 

 

Objectively speaking, Heidi was pretty; Tweek liked that her eyes always looked kind even though she’d been stepped on more times than he could recall. 

 

He’d felt sorry for her after her volatile (abusive) relationship with Cartman finally ended last year. Tweek had been nice to her after Cartman alienated most of her female friends and he’d let her cry on his shoulder. Tweek didn’t consider them close, but he’d wanted her to know that someone did care. Unfortunately she’d taken it the wrong way, and assumed he cared for a different reason. He could only assume her sudden attachment to any guy who was remotely nice to her had to be some kind of leftover trauma from dating Cartman. He felt genuinely bad about that. 

 

“Hey Tweek!” she says brightly. “Thanks for sitting with me.”

 

“It’s fine,” he says, “you don’t need to  _ -hnn- _ thank me.”

 

“Are you and Craig back together?” she asks him, her voice just above a whisper. 

 

“No.”

 

“I saw you with him at the party so I though you migh-“

 

“Nope. I mean, we hooked up,” Tweek says, making eye contact with a blushing Craig as he does so, “but it was just a  _ -nghh-  _ one time deal.”

 

“Oh,” she says. “Good, because you guys split up for a reason I’m sure, and I know from my own experience that going back and trying again never works.”

 

“Well now I don’t have to  _ -gah-  _ commit to just one dick. I can have many. The possibilities are endless, man,” Tweek says, knowing full well Craig is listening.

 

“Why stop at just dicks,” Heidi says, “if the possibilities really are endless?”

 

“Maybe,” Tweek says but he says it more because he know it would get to Craig a hell of a lot more if he fucked a chick. Craig is weird that way. He’s probably the gayest person Tweek has ever met. 

 

“I suppose I’ll try anything  _ -ah-  _ once.”

 

Tweek does begin to remember why he has such an aversion to school by study hall - he’s quick to head behind the art building to the designated smoking spot. He’d almost forgotten just how fucking boring class is and what a waste of his time it is. 

 

Craig and Kenny are already there when Tweek manages to push through the overgrown bushes to find their perfect hidden spot. 

 

“Don’t judge me,” Craig says sternly, and exhales smoke to the sky.

 

“Not gonna,” Tweek says, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. Like he has any kind of right to judge Craig when he’s more of a mess himself. 

 

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Kenny says. “I thought you were going for the perfect non-attendance record.”

 

_ “-Nghh-  _ Nobody’s perfect,” Tweek says. “You got cigarettes for sale?”

 

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Kenny says, grinning stupidly from ear to ear as he reaches into his ratty backpack. 

 

Kenny’s backpack is the gateway to anything illicit or at least banned for anyone underage. Kenny is the reason there is never a shortage of anything at any party they have, even if it’s a get together that he wasn’t invited to guaranteed he supplied the booze and weed. Tweek hopes he makes good money, and judging by the size of his customer base, Tweek thinks that's highly likely. 

 

He doesn’t know how much of a cut Kenny actually gets from his parents though, and if they’re anything like Tweek’s parents (who have never once paid him for “working” at the shop) he probably gets shit all. 

 

On the other hand they leave money on the counter for Tweek a lot. He assumes it’s to buy food with but he always spends it a combination of smokes, drugs or alcohol, depending on which aspect of his stash is getting low - Tweek’s pretty sure Kenny’s parents never leave any money out for him whether there's food in the fridge or not. 

 

“Whaddaya want?” he asks, his gap-toothed grin still splitting his freckled face open.

 

“Just give me the cheapest you got man,” Tweek says, clicking his fingers at Kenny impatiently, he hasn’t had a cigarette since this morning on the way to the bus stop and his head is beginning to hurt. 

 

“I’m lookin’ as fast as I can,” Kenny says before shoving the pack at him. “Eight big ones dude.”

 

Tweek shoves the bills in his hand hurriedly, so ready for this goddamn smoke he rips open the pack and is quick to light the cigarette despite his shaking hands. 

 

“You alright?” Craig asks him as he stubs out his own cigarette with the toe of his boot.

 

“Yep,” Tweek says after a long, relieving exhale. “Bored but  _ -hnn-  _ I’m fine.”

 

“What’re you bored for?” Kenny asks. “You just said this morning you can go fuck whoever you want.” 

 

Craig winces and Tweek rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m bored of  _ class  _ dude,” Tweek says. “It’s not like we’re actually learning shit anyway.”

 

“We could cut?” Craig offers. “Go see the guinea pigs?”

 

“I’m not cutting,” Kenny says. “Heidi is buying a whole heap of stuff off me at lunch - it’s enough shit that it’s actually worth staying for.”

 

“Who knew Heidi  _ -gah-  _ was into that shit?” Tweek says. “I’ll come see the guinea pigs if I’m still  _ -hnn-  _ still invited?”

 

Kenny shrugs. “I don’t care what she’s into as long as I get paid.”

 

“Of course you’re invited, Baby is your pig!” Craig says. “I didn’t want to go to History anyway, Cartman keeps bringing up all the gay Roman Emperors and then looking at me.”

 

Kenny promptly loses his shit at this and bursts out laughing and Tweek also lets out a little snort of laughter.

 

“It’s not funny!” Craig exclaims. “I hate him so much.”

 

“I hate him too,” Tweek says, “but that’s fucking hilarious.” 

 

Kenny is still doubled over clutching his stomach in laughter, unable to form any other response to Craig’s irritation. Tweek pats him on the shoulder sympathetically.

 

“He’s an idiot man, an idiot who was always weirdly invested in  _ -nghh- _ our relationship. And also dicks, probably too invested really.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he writes a thesis about how much he loves dick one day,” Kenny says, finally managing to compose himself.

 

“Whatever,” Craig says. “I’m not going to History. And Kenny? Sell me some fucking weed. I needa calm myself down now thanks to you two idiots.”

 

Tweek can’t help but grin. Craig is  _ so  _ going to fuck him later.

 

They smoke up on the walk to Craig’s place - Craig absolutely refuses to let any kind of smoke near the guinea pigs which Tweek supposes is actually responsible. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have his own pets. 

 

Tweek had been the one to roll the joints. He was much better at it than Craig, which he assumes is either down to natural talent or just intense practice. Craig paid for the weed, so it’s only fair that Tweek rolls them as his contribution. 

 

So, they’re pleasantly stoned by the time they reach Craig’s front door. Tweek has to fight the urge to put his arm around Craig and rest his head on his shoulder.

 

Tweek has always loved Craig’s house, mainly because it is the opposite of his own. Craig’s family is usually around (though obviously not right now) and they’re such vibrant, loving people. He still sees Craig's mom around town sometimes and she always says hello and asks how he’s doing. 

 

They’re a warm family who genuinely give a shit about it each other. Not like his family at all - he’s unsure if his parents would even notice if he just fucked off and didn’t come back at this point. 

 

“I think the pigs do miss you a lot,” Craig says as he opens the door to his bedroom.

 

Tweek can’t help but drink in the familiar surroundings as he follows Craig inside. It’s the exact fucking same. Craig’s room has always been meticulously neat, whereas Tweek’s is always a hot mess. Craig has a place for everything and sorts his DVDs in alphabetical order. The only real messy part of the room is the guinea pig cage, and that’s only because guinea pigs make mess faster than you can clean it up. Tweek loves how chaotic they are. 

 

Stripe starts to wheek at the sight of Craig, her food man. Baby has always been quieter and is much happier letting out happy squeaks and purrs while being petted on a lap. 

 

“You can get them out if you want,” Craig offers. “I’m going to get some veggies out of the fridge.”

 

Tweek wanders over to the cage and sticks his hand near the bars for the girls to smell - he hopes they remember his scent. He’s not sure how long guinea pigs could retain that kind of information for, but he chooses to live in hope. 

 

Stripe comes over first and momentarily stops her wheeking to sniff him. Baby comes closer after a little while, much more cautious, but as soon as she sniffs Tweek’s hand, she begins to perk up.

 

He gets Baby out first, mainly because she’s harder to catch and requires both hands and all his concentration.Once Tweek has picked her up and has her settled on his chest she happily snuggles in, forgetting all about the ‘trauma’ of being plucked from her cage. 

 

He then goes to get Stripe, she’s much easier to scoop up with one hand and place next to Baby. 

 

He’s missed them so fucking much he almost can’t believe it. He sits down on Craig’s bed and cradles them.

 

Stripe is still wheeking for food. She’s just going to have to wait for Craig to get back while Baby has nestled herself right in against Tweek’s chest and is making small chatty squeak sounds. 

 

Stripe is a little bigger than Baby and has fairly common Guinea Pig markings. Her face and backside a caramel-ginger colour with a white body and a white stripe down her nose, kind of like some horses have. 

 

Baby is white all over with silky short hair, she has brown patches on her ears and nose according to the sales girl at the pet shop she’s mixed Himalayan but that really didn’t mean anything to Tweek at the time. 

 

The main reason Tweek had adopted her is because she has red eyes, he read online somewhere when researching Guinea Pig care that Guinea Pigs with red eyes and white fur are less likely to be adopted. 

 

When they first brought Baby home and introduced her to Stripe Tweek hadn’t been able to think of a name for her. He’d just kind of called her Baby as a mocking reference to Craig’s love for pet names but it had stuck. He liked that it had stuck though, it suits her and she  _ is  _ his (their) baby. 

 

Craig opens the door slowly and quietly but it still startles Tweek out of his trip down memory lane. Stripe’s wheeking only intensifies as she can probably smell the veggies in the bowl tucked under Craig’s arm. Baby also perks up and sticks her little brown nose in the air, sniffing around hopefully. 

 

Baby doesn’t wheek- she never has and at first Tweek thought they might be doing something wrong. Craig assured him that it’s just her personality. She’s reserved but not unhappy with her care. 

 

“Stripe, shhh,” Craig says, placing the bowl down and taking her from Tweek. “She doesn’t know the meaning of the word patience.”

 

She doesn’t settle down until Craig feeds her a piece of kale. After that she’s instantly quiet, apart from the sounds of her chewing. Baby is looking up at Tweek expectantly like  _ where’s mine?  _ Tweek reaches into the bowl situated between himself and Craig to grab Baby some kale which she happily accepts and begins eating.

 

“When you invited me to see the  _ -hnn- _ guinea pigs I didn’t realise you meant so literally,” Tweek says, still stroking Baby’s soft white fur.

 

“Huh?” Craig says, looking up from Stripe who he was enamoured with a few seconds before. 

 

“I thought you might wanna go again?” Tweek says. “I’d  _ -ahh- _ like to.”

 

“Oh, no. Tweek, I meant what I said at the coffee shop,” Craig tentatively says. He bites his lip nervously. He looks back down at Stripe, clearly not wanting to make eye contact.

 

“I don’t understand what the harm is man,” Tweek almost whines. “We have great sex, we can have - _ nghh- _ sex without getting back together.”

 

“I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I just don’t think it’s healthy. I’m trying to work on some things and…”

 

“And what? I’m pulling you  _ -GAH-  _ down? Holding you back?!” Tweek  _ yells. _ He feels suddenly  _ attacked.  _

 

Why the fuck doesn’t Craig want to fuck him?! Craig used to say that he was sexy, that he loved him. Surely that doesn’t just go away. Especially since Craig admitted he still loves him and called him  _ babe  _ for fuck’s sake!

 

“No, that’s not what I meant,  _ Jesus _ Tweek. I meant I probably shouldn’t be having sex with  _ anyone. _ ” Craig sounds exasperated and Tweek can’t fucking understand it.

 

“Why the fuck don’t you  _ -nghh-  _ want me? What the fuck do I have to do?!” he explodes.  _ Why the fuck doesn’t Craig want him?! _

 

“Tweek, what the fuck?” Craig says, tone frustratingly flat and void of emotion. “You’re scaring the guinea pigs.”

 

“You know what, fine!  _ -hnn-  _ Fuck you, I can have  _ -nghh-  _ anyone I want!” Tweek jumps up, startling Baby who lets out a squeak. 

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

He hands her back to Craig so he can make a less than dramatic exit. 

 

He doesn’t realise that he’s panting with anger, his heartbeat echoing in his ears, until he’s out the door. His head spins as he realises what he’s just done.

 

_ Why the fuck did I do that? _


	10. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, sorry. I had to split this chapter into two and this was the only way it could split without wrecking the narrative. Next chapter should be longer!

Friends - Marshmello and Anne-Marie

 

Tweek had called the only person he was sure wouldn’t say no.

 

Before Tweek and Craig had started dating Tweek had casually fucked around with Kenny. Kenny didn’t care about parts and Tweek had been thrilled to find someone else who liked dick and weed as much as he did. 

 

It wasn’t romantic; there was never any commitment and it had stopped as soon as he’d got together with Craig. It had just been experimental sex—totally different to how it had been with Craig. It’s kind of crazy how different feelings make things. 

 

He hadn’t said out right what had happened. He’d just told Kenny that he and Craig had had and fight and he didn’t want to be alone. None of those things were lies—Tweek just felt like he had something to prove. Craig’s rejection stung and Tweek wanted to show him what he was missing. He knew deep down that it wasn’t a competition and he also knew that Craig wasn’t screwing anyone else, but he felt the need to really prove to Craig that he can have anyone. He can and will move on, and Craig will be sorry. 

 

That’s how he’d ended up at Kenny’s place on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. 

 

That’s how he’d ended up at Kenny’s place on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. Another cool thing about Kenny is that his libido is about as high as Tweek’s, so, unlike when he was with Craig, they could kinda just keep going until someone had enough. And they had done just that: once with Tweek on top, once with Kenny on top, and a third where they jerked each other off. Tweek could tell Kenny was getting tired, but he definitely wasn’t. 

 

“You won’t tell Craig about this, right?” Kenny says, taking a long fucking drag of his cigarette before handing it to Tweek. Kenny is allowed to smoke in the house because his parents do too. He’s pretty much allowed to do anything in the house; it’s guaranteed his parents have done worse. They’ll probably pass the crumpled cigarette back and forth dozens of times tonight before its stubbed out.

 

It’s kind of intimate, sharing a cigarette and a bed.  Way more intimate than fucking, maybe. Tweek barely remembers it anyway. 

 

“You wanna keep me a dirty secret?” he says playfully. He’s not really offended by this. Kenny and Craig are really close friends, so he can see why Kenny might be wary. 

 

“No, he’s just gonna be really mad.” Talking isn’t Kenny’s strong point—sex and drugs are. Tweek’s not sure if he’s sad about that or not.

 

“That’s really hypocritical of him, considering you had me  _ -nghh- _ first, technically,” he says with a shrug. Craig shouldn’t even be a part of this equation. They’re consenting adults and Craig broke up with him. He shouldn’t have any control here.

 

“I didn’t have you. Not like Craig anyway,” Kenny says, sounding a little nostalgic.

 

“Whatever. Craig doesn’t get to make my  _ -gah-  _ my decisions and neither do you,” Tweek says as he exhales more smoke into the room.

 

“Craig’s kind of a dick. He’ll be pissed even if he shouldn’t be.”

 

Kenny gets it, kind of. What say does Craig have here? Zero, none, nada. 

 

“You’re scared you’re breaking some kinda  _ -hnn-  _ bro code—you should’ve thought of that before you let me come  _ -nghh-  _ over,” Tweek adds with a laugh. If Craig does have a tantrum over this Tweek will punch him for Kenny himself. 

 

_ Shouldn’t have broken up with me if you didn’t want me screwing your best friend. Shouldn’t have turned me down earlier.  _

 

“Alright, I won’t  _ -ahh-  _ tell him. You wanna go again?” He takes pity on Kenny anyway—there’s no point starting drama for the sake of drama. Kenny will probably get drunk and tell Craig himself anyway. 

 

“What? No, fuck I’m tired as shit. You wanna stay and sleep or?” Kenny looks genuinely shocked that Tweek  _ still  _ isn’t done yet. Such a fucking pussy.

 

“Fuck no. Are you sure?” Tweek tries again. Kenny can usually be talked into almost anything sexy if he tries hard enough.

 

“Sure as shit I am. You can stay if you want, but I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep,” he says, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray on a gnarly looking bedside table.

 

“Fuck you then, man,” Tweek says, but there’s zero malice and Kenny knows it. He just rolls over and shows Tweek his middle finger as Tweek begins the task of getting dressed. Maybe other people are getting together tonight—the party shouldn’t have to stop just because Kenny’s a pussy. 

 

It turns out that nobody is doing anything, and Tweek is left alone in his room to beat off to stave off restlessness. It’s not working. 

 

He doesn’t understand why his friends are being such buzzkills. A few weeks ago Clyde was begging him to come out and do stuff. Now he’s trying to initiate something and he’s getting ditched. He looks at his fucking phone for like the five hundredth time that night and is kinda shocked to see a message.

 

_ Craig: You done being an asshole yet? _

 

_ Tweek: yeah. sorry. _

 

He definitely is sorry and he hasn’t got any kind of explanation for his behaviour. He’d spent almost the entire walk to Kenny’s house alternating between hating Craig and feeling awful for yelling at him. 

 

_ Craig: You’re not okay are you? _

 

_ Tweek: im super duper ok. I feel great tbh. _

 

_ Craig: You can still call me, if you’re not. I know you and I know stuff that I know you don’t talk about with the others. _

 

_ Tweek: ok I will. But I’m fine. Promise. How are the guineas? I’m sorry I yelled with them there. _

 

_ Craig: Fine, I fed them more veggies and they got over it. _

 

_ Tweek: Good. U want to hang out?  _

 

_ Craig: School tomorrow, I’m trying to fix my grades. _

 

_ Tweek: ok. See u soon. _

 

Since when has Craig given a shit about it being a school night? Right, the new self-improved Craig who tries to quit smoking, goes to class (except for today apparently) and doesn’t date his no good deadbeat boyfriend Tweek anymore. 

 

He thought about Craig  _ a lot  _ though,. He always does, whether he is beating off or reminiscing in melancholy self-pity. He supposes there’s other people he could think about instead of all the spank bank fodder of Craig he’s committed to memory. Kenny is nice enough to look at, Bebe has nice tits and Jimmy has great arms. 

 

But he knows Craig; he can conjure up all his private spaces, knows the details of his face, the wide planes of his back and remembers the feeling of skin on skin in a way he just can’t conjure in a fantasy with someone else. He remembers domestic things too, like how Craig curls up like a cat and Tweek can just slot in behind him perfectly. Craig doesn’t drink coffee but he learned to make Tweek’s exactly how he likes it. That Craig has such a gross, nasally laugh that Tweek should hate but he just can’t bring himself to. 

 

Tweek thinks he might have been in love with Craig since middle school, maybe even elementary if he really wants to stretch it. Long before either of them were out—long before Tweek really understood what feelings were or what they meant. 

 

Tweek doesn’t mind being gay, sometimes his parents are weird about it but mostly they barely know he exists. Craig had more of a negative influence at home, meaning he cared much more about what others thought. His parent’s came round in the end, but Tweek suspects there was lots of prodding from Craig’s mother. 

 

Craig came out to their friends (and Tweek) by kissing Tweek at a party. They’d been dancing around it for a while, Tweek wasn’t sure if Craig actually liked him in  _ that way  _ but he’d been enjoying all the extra time they were spending together regardless. 

 

Craig made his heart flutter in ways that Kenny never had. 

 

Tweek had been totally shocked by the sudden move by Craig but he’d still enjoyed it despite the surprise. Tweek hadn’t been thinking about the consequences of opening his heart and bearing his soul. Everything had been so simple and exciting back then. 

 

He hadn’t thought he’d end up here, restless and alone in his bedroom. Wanking to thoughts of Craig, just like he had before they’d been together. 

 

Tweek is so fucking bored with himself and his stupid shitty existence that he polishes off the rest of the Tequila bottle from the weekend instead of sleeping.

 


	11. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek really begins to lose his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading this, it's kinda crazy to know that people are actually reading my baby and enjoying! I can't thank you guys all enough :)
> 
> Soundtrack - Insomnia - Faithless

Tweek isn’t sure how long it’s been since he slept. The days were blurring into one hazy clump of weirdness. At this point, he may have ascended; travelled to a state beyond sleep. He didn’t leave his room for almost the entire time, because you never know what might be out there. It was near-impossible to sleep with people whispering in your ear anyway. The fact that he couldn’t understand what they were saying just made it even worse.

 

It wasn’t like Craig was around to protect him anymore, and his parents never were, so Tweek had to look out for himself. He made sure everything was shut and locked-up, that the house was secure. He didn’t let himself rest; he didn’t even let himself lie down and get comfortable. He remained upright and alert, sitting cross-legged on his bed and waiting for any semblance of noise. 

 

_ I know you’re coming. I’ll kill you first.  _

 

That’s how Tweek ended up in a beat-up van on his way to some weekend camping trip with Kenny and the guys. His absence at school apparently rung some alarm bells with Clyde, so he came over and begged Tweek to come on this trip. It seemed like a good idea: a change of scenery might make him feel a bit more normal - he’s not totally convinced yet.

 

Now that he’s here, squished between Craig and Token with Jimmy and Butters in back, Kenny at the driver's seat and Clyde riding shotgun, he’s starting to feel trapped. Clyde and Kenny argue over what music to listen to while Token looks thoroughly over the entire situation. Craig seems to have zoned out, gazing out the window whilst Butters and Jimmy laugh loudly about something. Probably a joke Jimmy told that Tweek didn’t bother to listen to. He jiggles his foot, trying to expel the nervous energy to no avail. 

 

“Are we nearly there?” Token asks, frustrated.

 

“Yeah, dude,” Kenny replies cheerfully. “Trust me, I know the spot.”

 

“Whenever you say ‘trust me’, I always know to do the opposite,” Token says, and Clyde lets out a jolly laugh.

 

“ _ Burnnnnnn! _ ” he yells. Why is he yelling? The van jerks a bit, signalling to Tweek they’re now on dirt road. Heading further into nowhere. Jesus. What if someone murders them? What if one of his  _ friends _ murders everyone?  _ Jesus Christ! _

 

“Tweek.”

“Huh?” Tweek is completely and utterly startled out of the loop beginning to form in his brain. The voice belongs to Craig—of course it does.

 

_ “ _ You’re digging in your nails, dude.” Craig gestures to Tweek’s thigh, which he has in a death grip.

“Oh… I didn’t  _ -ahh-  _ realise.” Tweek releases his leg. “I’m okay.”

 

“You’re not.” Craig’s voice is just loud enough so only Tweek can hear. “You’re having a  _ thing. _ ”

 

“I’m  _ -hnn-  _ I’m not,” Tweek replies. “I feel great.” He does, and he  _ is _ great. He’s going to keep them all safe. Then they won’t be calling him crazy. 

 

_ They’re so naive.  _

 

“We’re just about here, everyone!” Kenny calls from the front, eliciting a collective ‘whoop!’ from Clyde, Butters and Jimmy.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” Craig says. “Just platonic though.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, fucking platonic, I get it.”

 

The camping site is kind of nice. There’s nobody else around, which is both relieving and terrifying. Kenny proclaims that he found this site while hiking, which Tweek doubts, seeing as Kenny smokes more weed and tobacco than he does. 

 

Kenny does come in handy though, seeing as he’s actually quite proficient at putting up the tents. Craig, Tweek and Token are predictably useless. Butters surprises Tweek by being pretty handy with the tents as well, and Jimmy gets to “supervise and instruct” (in his words, not Tweek’s.)

 

They decided to split the three tents: Kenny and Butters in one, Jimmy and Token in the second, and Tweek, Craig and Clyde in the third. Craig demanded to be with Tweek, but to also have a third person there. Tweek’s head goes back and forth between wanting to kill him and wanting to kiss him. Stupid fucking Craig. 

 

_ Platonic my ass. _

 

Once the tents are up, albeit a little haphazardly, they get straight to the good shit: weed, booze and huddling by Kenny’s poorly-made fire. They drink and smoke well into the night, and Tweek begins to feel like maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It wouldn’t be hard for him to stay awake and keep watch over them overnight; it’s not like he’s going to sleep himself, anyway. 

 

Butters and Kenny are the first to retire to their respective tent.

 

“They’re having s-s-se— they’re doing it!” Jimmy says with confidence.

 

“Probably.” Craig sounds bored. “I don’t care.”

 

“Who do you think is the bottom?” Clyde’s eyes light up at the prospect of gossip.

 

Token groans. “Don’t start this shit again.”

 

“I dunno, man,” Tweek mumbles. “Kenny likes it both ways, so probably both.” He’s definitely starting to feel tired, but there’s no way in Hell he's sleeping. 

 

Not out here, where anything could get him. 

 

“I didn’t even realise Kenny  _ swung  _ both ways!” Clyde says. “How do you know what he likes?”

 

“How the fuck do you think, genius?” Tweek rolls his eyes.

 

“Holy shit!” exclaims Clyde.

 

“What the fuck?” says Craig. “When?”

 

“I don’t think he wants people knowing, man,” Tweek cautions. “Leave him be.” 

 

“We won’t tell anyone.” Token looks pointedly at Clyde. “I’ll make sure.”

 

“ _ When,  _ Tweek?” Craig presses. Tweek squirms a little under his harsh gaze.

 

“We just  _ -hnn- _ experimented a bit, before I was with you.”  _ And after. _

 

_ “ _ Why didn’t you tell me?” Craig sounds genuinely hurt. 

 

_ Here we fucking go again. _

 

“Because he’s not out, c'mon, you knew I’d been with  _ -nnn-  _ other people,” Tweek replies, trying to appeal to Craig’s sympathetic side.

 

“You could’ve fucking told me!” Craig shouts. “I wasn’t gonna out him!”

 

“For fuck’s sake.” Token sighs. “I’m going to bed. Get your shit together by morning.”

“M-me too fellas,” Jimmy echoes. Tweek can respect their will to stay out of his petty drama. 

 

“Kenny’s one of my best friends! You should’ve at least told me your ex is my  _ best friend! _ ” Craig is still going, far out. Clyde leans in closer, all-but grabbing a box of popcorn while he watches this all unfold. 

 

“Fucking go to bed, Clyde.” Token gives him a look so authoritative, it even makes even gossip-monger Clyde slink off to his tent. 

 

“He’s not  _ -ahh- _ my ex, we were never together,” Tweek attempts to explain. “There were no feelings, it wasn’t like you  _ -nghh- _ and me, okay?”  _ You and me were special - do I really have to say it? _

“You fucked him after you left my house, didn’t you?” Craig sneers and points a finger at Tweek’s chest.

“I said  _ before  _ I was  _ -gah- _ with you!” Tweek sort of wants to scream. He steps back from Craig’s accusatory finger and sighs in exasperation.

 

“You did. You always want sex when you’re having these  _ things.  _ When we were together, you’d get hyper and all you’d want to do is fuck! I said no, so you went and found someone else!”

 

Craig has no fucking place to be jealous. He said it himself: he said  _ no.  _ Tweek made good on his promise. He can have anyone he wants.

 

“We. Aren’t. Together. I don’t have to ask your permission!” Tweek screeches. He’s so fucking done with Craig. He’s not his boyfriend anymore, and he isn’t going to sit around and wait for Craig to give him the okay to be with other people. Fuck it.

“You’re being really stupid, Tweek. You’re going to be upset with yourself when you crash.” Craig pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Frustration bubbles in Tweek’s chest.

“I’m fucking  _ fine.”  _ He clenches his fists and digs his boots into the dirt.

“You’re not fine! That’s why we’re not having sex, okay? It’s because you’re going fucking crazy, and you can’t consent!”

_ Consent? _ Always with the fucking  _ consent, _ ever since they were kids and PC Principal was giving them those lectures. Tweek fucking hates that word, and he hates that Craig apparently thinks he can’t give it. “This is me, consenting right now. I’m not a fucking  _ -ahh-  _ baby! And I’m not crazy!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his unbrushed blonde hair. 

 

“You’re sick, is what you are. I don’t know what to do anymore.” Craig is quiet this time. He’s deflated as he says it, and Tweek suddenly feels ashamed, like a puppy who pissed on the carpet. “I can’t make you do or say anything,” Craig continues, “but we can cuddle if you want. I’m too tired to keep fighting, and I know you’re freaking out about  _ something,  _ even if you won’t admit it.”

 

“Okay,” Tweek says. “Okay, just don’t  _ -nghh-  _ yell at me again.” Craig takes his hand as a silent apology. 

  
  
  
  


Craig holds him like he promised, but Tweek still doesn’t sleep. He promised himself he wouldn’t. He’s trying to listen to Craig’s steady breaths and Clyde’s soft snoring, but keeps finding himself straining to hear outside noises. He stays on hyper alert instead, listening to every sound the wilderness makes in the night. Anything that might be out of the ordinary that might warrant a quick response - Tweek must be ready. 

 

Every now and then, Craig stirs and pulls him in tighter—probably trying to help him relax—but it has the opposite effect, and Tweek tries to wriggle himself loose. 

 

He needs to pee, badly, and it just feels like Craig’s hold grows tighter and tighter.

 

Maybe he’s doing it on purpose. Maybe he’s part of a plot. Maybe he has a partner waiting in the woods to murder them all. Maybe he knows that Tweek knows, so he’s trying to restrain him under the guise of concern. It all seems to fit: of course Craig is part of this, why didn’t he see it before? It’s so  _ obvious.  _

 

He has to get  _ out, out, out. _

 

With the echo of his heart beating in his ears, Tweek tears himself from Craig’s grasp and makes a dash for it. Surely, it’s got to be better outside the small space of the tent. “Get off me!” he cries. 

 

In the background, he can hear Craig’s sleepy “Tweek, what the fuck?” Tweek struggles with the zipper slightly, but in his heightened state, he is still much quicker than Craig or Clyde.  

 

All he can hear is the stereo  _ thud, thud, thud  _ of both his feet and his heart as he takes off as fast as he can. When he finally stops, winded—probably from all the smoking he does—he realises just what a mistake he’s made. 

 

There’s probably so many more worse things out here, and he’s alone. Easy prey.

 

He can hear things moving in the distance, in the dark, they could be anything and he isn’t ready. He doesn’t have a flashlight, fuck, he doesn’t even have his phone. Only himself, alone in the dark. There’s footsteps all around him and he can’t make out their direction. They’re calling his name, oh Jesus, they’re really coming. He clenches his fists to stop his hands from shaking and his chest constricts. 

 

_ Shut up, shut up, shut up! _

 

_ Tweek.  _

 

They’re here.

 

A hand on his shoulder, the claws grip him tight and he whips around fast. 

 

Screaming and swinging, Tweek launches his assault. He punches the creature square across the face; he’s preparing to punch again and—

 

“What the fuck, Tweek!” 

 

It’s Craig. He hit Craig. 

 

_ Oh god, oh Jesus! _

 

Craig reels back, the flashlight in his right hand illuminating his figure. He’s bent over with his left hand cradling his cheek. 

 

“Craig!  _ -GAH!-  _ I’m sorry!” Tweek shrieks, rushing to Craig’s side. “I thought you were  _ -nghh-  _ ...someone else!” 

 

“Tweek...” Craig is still breathless from shock.

 

Tweek rushes to put his arms around Craig’s broad shoulders and pull him into an embrace. He’s surprised when Craig doesn’t push him away. “I’m sorry, I’m so  _ -hnn-  _ so sorry, I’m back, I’m here,” he whispers into Craig’s ear, trying his best to be reassuring. He’s not sure how good he is at it.

 

Craig lets out a long tortured sigh before really melting into Tweek’s embrace. “You’re scaring me,” he says quietly, like he’s  _ this  _ close to breaking down and crying. Tweek feels something turn in his stomach when he realises he caused this. 

 

“I won’t ever do that again,” he promises, but his voice shakes as he does. He hopes he won’t do it again, but who can really say? Who the fuck is this person piloting his body right now? It really doesn’t feel like Tweek anymore.

 

He takes Craig back to the campsite, and ignores the worried stares directed at him from the rest of the campers.

 

He holds Craig until he stops shaking and finally falls asleep.

 

Tweek listens to his steady breaths until the sun rises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	12. No Tears Left to Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek faces consequences, and crashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's some heavy shit coming up in the next two chapters after this one and I just wanna forewarn everyone. So I'll be updating tags and things so make sure to go back and re-read the tags maybe next chapter. I'll post a trigger warning too.
> 
> Soundtrack: No Tears Left to Cry - Ariana Grande

Tweek runs his thumb repetitively over the smooth plastic of the the red Solo cup clutched between his shaking hands. He’s not sure why he’s come here, to another blowout at Token’s. Probably to convince Craig that he’s okay, or try to anyway. 

 

He hasn’t really spoken to Craig much after the ill-fated camping trip, mostly because he feels cripplingly guilty over what happened. 

 

Tweek spent a good portion of the time in his bedroom alone, obsessing over how awful he felt. To his credit, Craig did try to contact him: he had some calls he ignored, as well as text and Facebook messages. They weren’t all from Craig - Bebe, Clyde and Kenny checked in on him too. 

 

He needed to be alone; he didn’t deserve to see the light of day or trust himself to be around other people. Instead, he drank and smoked, trying (and failing) not to cry about the recent barrage of bad choices in his dumpster fire of a life.

 

Craig isn’t talking to Kenny (but he’s apparently still talking to Tweek, the whole thing makes no sense) and Jimmy and Token are most definitely avoiding him. Or trying to avoid the shitstorm - Tweek isn’t sure, but he doesn’t blame them. He’s surprised he was even invited tonight, and he wonders if maybe they invited him out of pity. It seems highly likely. 

 

Tweek was drinking before he agreed to hop into the back of Clyde’s beat-up car, Bebe with her arm around him and promising a better night than the campsite. He’s pretty sure they can tell—he probably smells of it—but graciously they say nothing.

 

He detaches himself from them almost as soon as he walks through the door. Tweek knows full well Craig would probably be around wherever Clyde and Bebe are, now that he isn’t talking to Kenny. Tweek feels terrible that he was the cause of all this drama, and he can’t even come up with a defensible reason for why he started it. All of his then-motives sound so petty to him now, he doesn’t even want to try and explain himself. He’s embarrassed, guilty, and just wants to be left alone to wallow in his bad choices. 

 

He barrels his way out towards the patio, in the hopes that he could at least find somewhere in the yard to hide if Craig and co. come looking. That’s where he is now, searching for his perfect hiding spot while nursing the drink in his hands.

 

The sun is still up, but the sky is beginning to take on that hazy orange-pinky-purple that comes with sunset. Along with having actual lights, Token always adorns the pool, patio and various parts of the backyard with fairy lights to help illuminate the area.. For safety or something, so there isn’t really any worry about things getting too dark after the sun sets. There’s a sound system hooked up out in the yard as well, so any smokers or stragglers don’t miss out on the musical experience inside. Token is the only person Tweek knows who has facilities like that - he always wonders why someone like Token wants to associate with a slob like him, but he counts his blessings that he does. 

 

“Hey Tweek, heard you beat up your boyfriend the other day? ‘Bout time somebody did!” someone calls. Tweek turns to see Wendy sitting with Heidi - who looks a little horrified at Wendy’s blunt comment.

 

“Not my boyfriend. I didn’t mean to, it was dark and he  _ -nghh-  _ startled me,” Tweek says glumly. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, because he knew the whole thing would get out. Even if Craig, Token or Kenny probably haven’t told anyone beyond Clyde, Butters and Jimmy, there is no way the whole school doesn’t know. They probably all think he’s some kind of horrible domestic abuser, or something equally as awful.

 

“Sit.” Heidi pats the grass next to her. “We know you didn’t mean it, Wendy’s just a bitch. She’s probably ovulating.”

 

“Fuck off. What was it like, though? Smacking him one?” Wendy asks, grinning mischievously. Tweek feels something deflate in his chest when he sits with them - he’s not in the mood for banter. 

 

“It wasn’t fun. I  _ -ah- _ wish I hadn’t done it,” he replies, while staring intently into the contents of his cup. Tequila and orange juice, as per usual. 

 

“He said it was an accident, Wendy, leave him alone,” Heidi says kindly. “It could’ve happened to any of us.”

 

“Clyde said you had a psychotic break. Which, for the record, I think he’s exaggerating for attention,” says Wendy.

 

Great, now he’s a  _ psychotic _ domestic abuser.

 

“Okay, I’ll shut up,” Wendy says. “But one more question. Did he hit you back?”

 

“Of course he  _ -argh-  _ didn’t, he’s a decent human being, unlike  _ -hnn- _ me.” Tweek sighs and places his cup on the grass in front of Heidi.

 

“You’re a decent person, Tweek. I’m winding you up,” says Wendy. “And clearly you’re not in the mood, so I’ll stop.”

 

“You’re better than decent, you’re really wonderful,” Heidi adds. “You’ve always been so nice to me.”

 

Tweek shrugs. They’re just saying it to cheer him up, he can tell. “I wanna smoke.” Generally, the patio is the unofficial smoking area. A rule Token made to accommodate the non-smokers who don’t like smoke blown in their faces.

 

“I’ll mind your drinks if you want,” Heidi says brightly. “I have asthma, so I should probably wait here.”

 

“Ain’t that nice of you,” Wendy says. 

 

Tweek nods. “Thanks Heidi.” He means it. Heidi is far too nice for her own good.

 

“I can’t believe Heidi doesn’t smoke,” Wendy says to Tweek as they look out into Token’s backyard from the patio.

 

“I think most  _ -nnn-  _ smart people don’t,” Tweek replies, tapping some ash onto the floor. Token’s cleaner will probably clean the place like a crime scene before his parents come back anyway. 

 

“You saying I’m not smart?” There’s no malice in Wendy’s voice; she’s being playful. Wendy is smart, really smart actually, but she’s jaded. She stopped trying in school years ago and mostly just coasts by on her natural academic abilities.

 

“Not on the life choices front,” Tweek jokes. Although it’s sort of a half-joke, because Wendy could do better, easily. She’s just hung up on Bebe’s indecisive ass. 

 

“The peer pressure is hard, everyone does it and people seem to bond over it,” Wendy says, putting her cigarette to her lips afterward for a big long drag.

 

“I probably started because my  _ -nnn-  _ friends did. I don’t really remember.” Tweek doesn’t really remember if anybody pressured him in particular.  He remembers that Craig, Bebe and Kenny have pretty much always been smokers - Token likes to pretend he’s only a social smoker, but it’s pretty clear he’s just as addicted as everyone else. 

 

“It made me feel left out, you guys all huddled going out for a smoke. So I started too. I don’t know how Heidi just sits alone and doesn’t care about not being included.” Wendy almost sounds regretful, and Tweek doesn’t blame her. She probably thought she was destined for great things yet here she is, a deadbeat just like the rest of them.

 

“I think she cares, she’s just smart enough to realise it’s not worth it.”

 

“Maybe she thinks it makes her unique.” Wendy snickers. She was just complaining about peer pressure, yet here she is, making fun of Heidi like everyone else. Tweek doesn’t get to call her out on this as they’re interrupted by the noise of the glass sliding door being opened. 

 

Token steps out, a smile meeting his kind brown eyes to try and put Tweek at ease. Tweek’s sure that just like everyone else, Token noticed him actively avoiding the group after ‘the incident.’

 

“How are you doing?” he asks, and quickly steps out to join Tweek and Wendy’s smoke and self pity session. Although Token is the least self-pitying person Tweek knows, so he’ll probably derail that emo shit real quick. 

 

“Fine,” Tweek replies, not really sure what he should say here. If there’s some kind of socially appropriate answer beyond ‘fine,’ he doesn’t know it.

 

“You don’t need to avoid us, Tweek,” Token says earnestly. “I know what happened was kind of awkward, but Craig said that he simply just scared you. We aren’t gonna fault you for an accident.”

 

Was it an accident? Tweek isn’t sure; he definitely hadn’t meant to hit Craig, but both he and Craig know it was more than just a case of jump scare. He wasn’t in control at all.

 

“I’m just really  _ -ah-  _ embarrassed about it man! Truth be told, I don’t know why I did that or why I left the  _ -hnn-  _ tent in the first place,” Tweek laments.

 

“You gotta lay off the hallucinogens dude, making you even more paranoid than normal,” Wendy interjects, with sound logic as per usual - Tweek kind of hates her for it.

 

“Wendy might have a point, but either way we don’t care.” Token pauses, thinking of the right words. “We all want you to come back and hang out with us - especially since you and Craig kind of, sort of started getting along again.”

 

“Craig is totally right about me being  _ -ack-  _ bad for him and a toxic influence.” Tweek sighs. Maybe the reason he was so angry when Craig first said it was because deep down he knew it was true. 

 

Maybe now he’s only just realised—finally seeing himself for who he really is.

 

“That’s not true. He didn’t mean that anyway. He said it in anger and you know it,” Token is quick to point out. It sounds so logical coming from his lips. Matter-of-fact, almost like he’s stating that the sky is blue or water is wet. It’s oddly comforting. 

 

“If you ask me, he’s still totally gagging for it after you fucked his brains out at the last party,” Wendy adds, smirking devilishly. 

 

“He fucked my  _ -ah-  _ brains out, actually.” Tweek can’t resist. It’s not like everyone doesn’t know already.

 

“Oh nice! You finally got the dicking you deserve!” Wendy raises her hand for a high-five. Tweek meekly taps his hand with hers. He’s not into high-fives, but he’s definitely into the dicking part. 

 

“You two are totally gross.” Token wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

 

“Tweek and Craig are the ones who banged behind a couch where everyone could hear it. Not me.” Wendy shrugs and Tweek shoves her playfully in response.

 

“You’re all gross,” Token says. “If I had a dollar for everytime I walked in on anybody fucking in public I’d-”

 

“You’re already rich,” Wendy quips.

 

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Token says. “Come have a drink with us inside?”

 

“I guess,” Tweek replies with a shrug. “I better go get my drink off Heidi.”


	13. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a big warning, there will be non-con in the next chapter. NOW it's not super graphic, but it did upset me kinda writing it so err on the side of caution. I will be updating the tags for next chapter. I love you guys and don't wanna trigger anyone <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

The music is too loud and Tweek doesn’t feel good. It isn’t his normal I-don’t-feel-good either- not his normal headachey anxiety-induced nausea or the confusion of a bad trip.

 

He’s slumped against Craig’s side because Craig is the only person who seemed to realise that he wasn’t feeling right. 

 

He’d come inside with Token and things hadn’t been as bad as he expected. Nobody brought up what happened at the campsite. Craig had even surreptitiously given his hand a squeeze to let him know he wasn't mad. 

 

Craig was always much better at actions than he was with words. 

 

They’d done a few shots together, then Tweek had downed the rest of his Tequila from the beginning of the night, and he’d started to feel like maybe he belonged once again. But then he’d started to feel dizzy, then sick, and he was having a hard time articulating why this felt different to other times he’d drunk himself into oblivion. 

 

Maybe because he hadn’t? Not really anyway. His consumption was relatively slow tonight and he hadn’t even had anything illicit yet. 

 

His vision is swirling sickeningly and all he can do is latch onto Craig to prevent himself from falling off the face of the Earth. Craig isn’t all that much taller or broader than Tweek but he feels somehow sturdier. Craig is good for stability whether it be mental or physical. 

 

They’re standing towards the back of the crowd, which had gathered to watch Bebe and Kenny play beer pong.  It looks like Bebe is winning, but Tweek isn't quite sure- it's one of those things that could easily go either way.

 

Clyde is standing on Tweek’s left (Craig at his right) watching on warily. Normally, Tweek is pretty sure, Clyde would be thrilled to watch his girlfriend destroy Kenny at beer pong, but he isn’t watching her - he’s watching them. 

 

“Is everything alright man?” Clyde asks, seemingly directing this at Craig. Tweek doesn’t look at him. He can’t.

 

“Ask him yourself,” Craig says boredly, but his arm is still firmly around Tweek’s shoulders.

 

“You okay?” he asks Tweek directly.

 

“Mhmm.” Tweek still can’t meet his eyes. It’s not because of Craig, Tweek feels the safest with Craig, but more because he’s so embarrassed that he’s so messed up this early on into the night. 

 

“I think he took something bad, I’ll ride it out with him,” Craig says with an even voice. Tweeks pounding brain wants to scream.  _ I didn't I didn't I didn't! Not this time! _

 

“Do you think maybe you’re not the best person to be with him right now dude?” Clyde says, trying not to be condescending and failing miserably. Subtle anything isn’t one of Clyde’s strong points.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to take advantage of him! We were together for two years- I love him. You don’t do that shit to anyone let alone someone you love. Fucks’ sake Clyde.” 

 

Tweek can feel Craig body stiffen as he chews out Clyde. He’s proper angry; good, Tweek doesn’t want to be with anyone else.

 

_ I was your babe. _

_ You said you loved me. _

_ Said you’d keep me safe. _

 

“Last party you guys-”

 

“Because we both could fucking consent. Fuck off,” Craig snaps, his face scrunched into a dangerous frown. Clyde knows better than to push - he shrugs.

 

“Okay, just trying to look out for you guys, no need to yell.”

 

“I won’t yell if you don’t say stupid shit.” 

 

Tweek buries his face into Craig’s shirt. He wants to sleep and nothing will stay still.

 

“...Tweek, you wanna have sex?” Craig asks, but his tone is mocking. Clearly he and Clyde are still going at it.

 

“No,” Tweek groans against Craig’s shirt.

 

“Good. Sorted. Happy Clyde?” Craig says, voice dripping with irritation and sarcasm.

 

Tweek paws at Craig’s shirt in a desperate attempt to stay upright. His stomach is swirling uncomfortably and his knees feel like they might give in at any second.

 

“Sink,” he mumbles.

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Sink. Gonna be sick.” he stumbles as the nausea rises in his throat. He fights it as best he can while Craig guides him to the sink. He can’t see properly through the dizziness and just has to assume Craig knows where they are going.

 

“Okay,” Craig says, “we’re almost there, don’t puke yet.” 

 

_ I’m trying.  _ Tweek doesn’t reply. He knows he’ll definitely be sick all over his shoes if he does.  __

Tweek feels his stomach begin to heave. Craig can clearly feel it too as he pushes Tweek forward with a little more urgency.

 

“ _ Here, here, go,”  _ He urges. “You’re okay.”

 

Tweek’s chest hits the cabinet below Token’s sink and that's all it takes for the contents of his stomach to go spilling into the metal basin. He hasn’t actually eaten much today- just drank Tequila. It’s watery putrid throw up that burns just as much on the way up as it did going down.

 

Maybe this is payback for drinking for the last couple of days straight. 

 

Craig is rubbing his back in slow circles and doesn’t seem too put off or disgusted by the vomit. Although, Tweek supposes, this isn’t the first time Craig has seen him vomit, and he’s definitely rubbed Craig’s back while he puked too. They’re sort of past that point of being disgusted by each other’s bodily functions. 

 

“You done?” Craig asks. Tweek is just dry retching at this point. There’s nothing else to bring up. He shuts his eyes and tries to focus on taking deep, purposeful breaths to try and calm his stomach down.

 

“Maybe,” he says. “It’s too loud in here.”

 

“Wanna try and sleep in the guest room? I can take you home in a few hours maybe?” He looks at his watch. “I’ve drunk too much to now.”

 

“You seem okay,” Tweek says, slurring a little. Compared to him Craig looks incredibly together.

 

“Stan got done for drunk driving the other day, I don’t wanna lose my license,” he says apologetically. Tweek gets it though. Craig’s parents would probably kill him anyway considering they’re not at all like his own.

 

Craig guides him upstairs to the guest room and Tweek clings pathetically. He’s very afraid he might just fall over and never be able to get back up if he lets go. Craig makes sure to close the door behind them so that the music is dulled to just the distant thud of a bassline. 

 

He helps Tweek crawl into one side of the double bed and then goes to turn off all the lights. Tweek wants to marry him right then and there.

 

“ _ -Nnn-  _ stay?” Tweek asks, trying hard not to sound pathetic.

 

“Of course,” Craig replies, his voice quiet now that he doesn’t have to yell over the music. Tweek really, really appreciates it. He closes his eyes to try and stop the room spinning even though he knows deep down that it isn’t going to work. 

 

“I’m just gonna get you a bucket okay?” Craig says and Tweek can hear him rooting around in the closet. Token always keeps a bucket in the spare room closets to avoid future disasters. Tweek admires his foresight.

 

He can hear Craig placing something on the floor at his side of the bed and the shuffle of his feet as he walks over. Climbing into the bed and under the covers beside him. He shimmies himself in and his feet brush against Tweek’s leg as he moves himself in closer. 

 

“Wanna feel safe,” Tweek whispers.

 

“Okay,” Craig replies. He knows the cue well and waits patiently for Tweek to rest his head on Craig’s chest before enveloping Tweek totally. Craig knows exactly how to make him feel safe, Craig knows that Tweek likes to be the big spoon and Craig the little one, Craig knows just when the roles have to be reversed, and Craig just knows  _ him.  _ Knows him like nobody else does and Tweek just isn’t ready to let that go yet.

 

“I’m not gonna try anything,” Craig says. “Just in case you’re feeling paranoid.”

 

“I know,” Tweek sighs. “Mmm not paranoid.”  _ Not right now anyway. _

 

Craig softy strokes Tweeks hair in that way that he just knows puts Tweek at ease. He always knows exactly what to do.

 

“You still feel sick?” Craig asks with a hushed tone.

 

Tweek nods his head against Craig’s chest, not feeling able to make his mouth work anymore.

 

“Can you tell me what you took? I won’t get mad.” Tweek can feel the rumble of his chest as he talks. He focuses on it as best he can.

 

“Didn’t.”

 

“You clearly did. It’s okay, like I’d judge you,” Craig says, his fingers still soothingly tangled in Tweek’s shaggy hair.

 

“Didn’t. Promise. Just tequila. Lots,” he mumbles while nuzzling into the touch of Craig’s fingers.

 

“Not even weed?” he asks, and Tweek can hear the eyebrow raise in his voice without even looking at his face. He doesn’t know how to better articulate to Craig that for possibly the first time ever, he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight. He was planning to, sure, but that never got to happen before his brain decided to liquefy and dribble out through his ears.

 

“Nuh-uh,” is the best he can muster.

 

“Were you drinking during the day?” Craig asks, although Tweek is one hundred percent sure he already knows the answer.

 

“Mhmm.” 

 

“Damn Tweek, you’ve gotta slow down,” Craig says whilst pulling Tweek into an even tighter embrace. He brings his lips to the top of Tweek’s head and gives him a gentle kiss. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up.”

 

“Not right,” Tweek manages. He just can’t get out what he actually means. What he means is,  _ I shouldn’t be this gone, should I?  _

 

“I know babe, I’ll look after you.” Things must be bad if Craig is reverting back to calling him ‘babe.’ Apart from that one hungover slip-up the morning after they slept together, he hasn't been doing that anymore. Not since the break-up, obviously, but Craig knows better than anyone else that the pet names are a surefire way to put an anxious Tweek at-ease.

 

“Babe. Mmm your babe.”  _ Nobody else, just me, always me. _

 

“Yeah, always,” Craig says with sincerity. Or at least, Tweek hopes.

 

“Always?” he asks, just to make sure. Craig said he loved him before. He has to know that he means it.

 

“Of course. You should sleep my babe, my love. I’ll keep you safe.”


	14. Stranger Than Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NON-CON.  
> This is not a fetish or a source of drama or shock value for me - this is an extremely important part of this story and I wanted to tell it as respectfully and accurately is possible. For me, this is my real life - and I'd rather you read all the warnings and skip things if you have to, than have some kind of shock value in my narrative.  
> Thanks so much, love you all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags and the summary thank you.
> 
> Soundtrack: Stranger Than Earth - Purity Ring

Tweek awakens to a dark room and a heaving stomach. He leans over the side of the bed, all but dragging Craig with him, and barely makes it to the bucket Craig brought him earlier.

 

Craig realises pretty quickly what’s happening, and almost instantly switches from cuddling to rubbing Tweek’s back again as he retches. Tweek coughs when he’s done; there was only stomach acid left to bring up, and it’s over quicker than last time. His vision is still spinning, and he can’t read the numbers on the digital clock next to the bed. 

 

Craig presses his face between Tweek’s shoulder blades and hugs him (gently) from behind. “You want some water?” he asks, whispering quietly, like if he talks too loudly it will set Tweek off again. Tweek nods his response; at the very least, water can take the disgusting taste of bile from his mouth. He can hear the blankets and sheets ruffling as Craig gets off the bed and finds his way towards the door.

 

“Stay,” he says. “I’m coming back.”

 

“Okay,” Tweek replies, because really? Like he’s going anywhere tonight.

 

Tweek hides his face in his hands to avoid the light streaming in from the open door. Craig makes his exit and the light is gone as soon as it arrived. 

 

He couldn’t have been asleep for all that long, maybe half an hour? Tweek really doesn’t know, because even on a good day his perception of time is pretty skewed. If anything, he feels worse than he did before, like the connections between his brain and his body are just getting worse as the night goes on. 

 

He lies down on his back and tries his best to stay awake - at least until Craig comes back. He will be sure he can pass out if Craig is in the room, because Craig always promised to keep him safe. 

 

The door opens again with a creak. Tweek screws his eyes shut as a default reaction to the light. He hears the door grate closed again, but his eyes haven’t properly adjusted to the light. He can see the outline of a figure walking towards the bed.

 

“Craig?” he croaks weakly.

 

No answer. Craig would definitely answer. Maybe he’s seeing things again - has he imagined this person? Is he going to accidentally hit Craig again? No, he won’t do that. 

 

The figure climbs onto the bed. Tweek can see that they are way too small to be Craig. Craig is tall with broad shoulders, he’s very skinny but still broad nonetheless. 

 

“Hey, Tweek,” the figure says in a very feminine voice. “You not feeling so good?” She sounds kind. 

 

_ Heidi. _

 

_ “Nnn,”  _ is all Tweek can force out, the last strings connecting brain to mouth severed. 

 

“Hey, shhh. It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I can make you feel better.” Heidi climbs over his legs and straddles him, her face inches from his. “Craig doesn’t love you like I do, just let me show you.” 

 

“Nnn-nnn…”  _ just say no why can’t you just say no… _

 

“Shhh, I’m gonna make you feel better, babe.” 

 

_ Nonono that’s Craig’s word you can’t have it. _

 

She’s pulling down the covers. Tweek tries to make his arm work, to move her hand away, but he can’t. It won’t move.  _ He _ can’t move. He closes his eyes to be anywhere but here.

 

_ Where is Craig? Where is Bebe? Where is  _ anyone?

 

He’s not here, she’s not on top of him, and he can only watch from afar. 

 

A birds-eye view.

 

He wants to yell ‘no!’ Slam the door, scream  _ fire, _ anything that might alert a bystander. Anything to help Not-Tweek. Not-Tweek can’t move away or call for help either. There’s solidarity in silence for both Tweeks. Her hands are under the covers where he can’t see them. Her back has all but eclipsed Not-Tweek who drowns under the covers, sinking into the mattress. 

 

Where is he? Is he under her still?

She’s moving and he still can’t see her hands - Not-Tweek doesn’t make a sound. He hears distant voices in the corridor— _ just scream why won’t you scream?!  _

 

“Feels good huh?” she says to Not-Tweek. But Not-Tweek doesn’t break his vow of silence. 

 

Tweek doesn’t have to actually  _ be  _ Not-Tweek to know what he’s thinking.

 

_ Don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum. _

 

_ Help me? _

 

He can’t. 

 

A door swings open, and he can feel her weight on his hips again. Craig’s in the doorway but he hasn’t yet realised what's happening. His laugh fills the room. He’s looking at someone in the hallway, but when he turns his head towards them his laugh is cut short.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

Tweek feels sick to his stomach.  _ I didn’t want to Craig please. _

 

Her weight is off him, and she’s off the bed - she doesn’t make a sound, but she’s staring Craig right in the face. Tweek can make out both their silhouettes, inches from one another. Craig is so much taller, but she doesn’t seem to shy away.

 

“Get out,” he hisses, pointing at the doorway. She scurries for it and Tweek watches her figure disappear from his vision. 

 

He tries to open his mouth, to tell Craig that he didn’t want her,  _ it _ —but instead, he vomits all over the bed and himself. Tweek doesn’t cry, just chokes and coughs until it’s all gone. 

 

“Jesus christ,” Craig says. 

 

He can see another shadow appear in the doorway.

 

“You’re completely right.” It’s Bebe. “That’s a roofie if I ever saw one.”

 

“No fucking prizes for who did it,” Craig grits through his teeth. 

 

He comes over to Tweek’s side of the bed and scoops Tweek up into his arms. There’s vomit all over him and now it’s on Craig too but Craig doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Didn’t want to,” Tweek tries to explain, but it doesn’t want to come out—not articulately at least.

 

“I know, babe,” Craig says softly. “Nobody is blaming you.”

 

“Fucking hell,” he hears Bebe say behind them.

 

“Can you start the shower?” Craig asks her.

 

Tweek tries to moan in protest.

 

“You gotta get clean,” Craig says. “Then we can go back to my house. It’ll just be us two. You’ll be safe.” 

 

Tweek hears someone else moving about in the room, but he has his eyes glued shut in an attempt to shun the bright light. 

 

“Should we call 911?” Bebe asks. He’s mostly sure it’s Bebe, anyway.

 

“Nah, I’ll take him to the ER if he gets worse at my house,” Craig says. “I don’t really want to incriminate Token.”

 

“I suppose, but what about Heidi? Should we—”

 

“That’s Tweek’s choice, dude. Not ours.”

 

Tweek makes a small strangled noise when Craig sets him down on the cold tiled floor.

 

“That’s Bebe,” Craig says. “She’s leaving now. Hear the door shut?” Tweek nods in reply. “I’m gonna take your clothes off, okay? But it’s just for the shower, you’re safe.” 

 

Craig makes sure that once they are under the spray that he keeps Tweek’s hands clasped in his the entire time.

 

Tweek knows exactly where his hands are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	15. Statements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a cool down chapter after the intensity that happens last time. Tweek and Craig have an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all still with me after last chapter, it's extremely important for me to tell this story even if it's not always fun and nice. I hope you all stay with me till the end <3  
> Soundtrack: Statements - Loreen

Tweek doesn’t remember getting out of the shower, he doesn’t remember getting dressed into warm clothes that are definitely Token’s, and he doesn’t remember how they got to Craig’s house. 

 

Logic dictates Craig drove them, but Tweek has no physical memory of actually being in that car. He doesn’t remember Craig helping him upstairs nor putting him to bed. He doesn’t even remember the brief moment of clarity he has - when he realises what actually just happened and vomits again. This time, all over Craig’s bedroom floor, and luckily Craig doesn’t seem upset at him for it. He doesn’t remember falling asleep in Craig’s bed, snuggled in Craig’s arm while nuzzling the pillow and savouring Craig’s scent.

 

_ Safe. _

 

He wakes up to a room enveloped in natural light, Craig’s curtains and windows open to allow the sunbeams to stream in. Craig himself is seated at his desk dicking around on his computer. It feels like it’s way too early to be awake, let alone coherent enough to look at a computer screen. The clock reads a blurry 10:30 am. Tweek groans and pulls the covers back over his aching head. 

 

“You’re awake,” Craig says, and Tweek can hear his chair creak as he moves. The wheels on the bottom make little squeaky sounds that hurt his already pulverised brain.

 

“Am not,” Tweek murmurs from beneath his blanket cocoon. 

 

Sweet fucking Jesus Christ his brain hurts, he seriously feels like his eyeballs might just pop out from the pressure in his skull. He still feels kind of sick too, but it’s more of an uncomfortable queasiness than the gut-punching nausea of last night.

 

Last night, right, he remembers puking in Token’s sink very ungracefully. Embarrassing himself in front of everyone in true Tweek Tweak fashion. He doesn’t have a fucking clue why Craig still bothers to look after him.

 

“How are you feeling?” Craig asks him, his voice appropriately lowered to accommodate Tweek’s searing hangover. 

 

“ _ -Hnn-  _ bad,” Tweek replies. “What did we do? Did we bang again?”

 

“No,  _ shit _ no we didn’t.” Craig shakes his head to clarify just how much they  _ didn’t _ do it. Like the extra emphasis somehow makes it even truer. 

 

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he says.

 

“Do what to me? We’ve had drunk  _ -nnn-  _ sex before, it’s fine.” Tweek pokes his head out from under the covers. “It’s too early for this, Craig.”

 

“Do you not… do you not remember?” Craig asks, frowning.

 

“I spewed everywhere, yeah.” Tweek doesn’t understand the foreboding tone in Craig’s voice. Sure, he’s pretty embarrassed that he puked so early on in the night, but it’s nothing he’s never done before.

 

“Yeah, cause you were roofied,” Craig says calmly.

 

Tweek shakes his head. There’s no way that happened. He was hanging out with his friends; his friends wouldn’t do that to him.

 

“No I wasn’t,” he says, mouth dry.

 

“You most definitely were. Do you remember any of it?” 

 

“I threw up in the  _ -hnn-  _ sink and you took me back here, I guess? And apparently we didn’t  _ -ah-  _ bang.” Tweek is trying to be funny, but it doesn’t come out right, it comes out more hollow as he struggles to retrieve what might have happened.

 

“There’s more.” Craig’s eyes are dark and serious.

 

“No there isn’t!” Tweek scrambles to say, trying to fight the feeling of his heart hammering against his rib cage. His stomach begins to tighten uncomfortably as the memory of a weight on his hips resurfaces.  _ No, _ he refuses. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to push it away, back down into the abyss of his brain. 

 

“Tweek, there is. Heidi-“ 

 

“ _ She didn’t Craig.  _ She didn’t and  _ -nghh- _ I wasn’t. Leave it!” If they stop talking about it, he can make it go away again. Craig just has to be  _ Craig  _ and keep pushing. 

 

“Okay, we’re gonna have to talk about it eventually,” Craig says, rolling his eyes. Like Tweek is the frustrating one, how this is so  _ typical  _ of Tweek and he’s had enough. 

 

_ Good, stay away from that dark shadowy place and never come back _ .

 

“We’re not  _ -ah- _ talking about something that didn’t happen,” Tweek says, his voice pained, and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

 

_ Leave it in the dark where it belongs. _

 

“I don’t get you, Craig,” Tweek growls. “You say I’m so  _ -nnn- _ toxic and bad for you and that we  _ -ah-  _ have to break up. Then you yell at me whenever I - _ nghh-  _ open my mouth, then you decide to be my friend again and we bang. Then you  _ -ah- _ tell me I’m fucking crazy and yell at me for banging other  _ -hnn- _ people.  _ Then  _ you take care of me when I’m drunk and you tell Clyde you  _ -gah-  _ love me. Fuck you man, don’t be judging me!”

He has to remember to take a deep long breath after finishing his rant. He might be a disaster of a human being, but if there’s one thing he can do, it’s rant.

 

“You... heard that?” Craig says, seemingly more to himself than to Tweek.

 

“Of course I did, I was in the  _ -hnn-  _ fucking room, wasn’t I?” Tweek seethes.

 

“You were, I just didn’t think you were with it enough to be listening. I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to get so emotional,” Craig says sheepishly.

 

“Why the fuck do you  _ -ah-  _ say things like that if you don’t mean them?!” Tweek doesn’t know why he’s still yelling, it’s just setting his headache off more, but he just can’t stop. Craig is so infuriating.

 

“I do fucking mean it, okay?! I’m just confused as shit and I don’t know what to do!” 

 

“ _ You’re  _ confused? Did you not hear  _ -nnn-  _ anything I just said to you? You’re the asshole not me!” Tweek is so fucking done. He’s tired of being called  _ babe _ and being told ‘I love you’ and then nothing. 

 

“I just… I don’t know how to get over you. I can’t do it and I keep going back and forth because I’m angry at myself about it. Angry that I still need you, even though we weren’t happy - we still aren’t.” Craig is shifting his weight back and forth uncomfortably as he says this, clearly nervous to be talking about himself for once. This whole time their conversations have been entirely one-way. Lots of ‘Tweek I’m worried about you’, ‘I’ll look after you’ and ‘I love you still.’

 

_ You’re scaring me. _

 

Oh. Tweek feels dumb, dumber than usual. That was probably the first time Craig’s expressed an emotion pertaining to himself aside from strangled ‘I love you’s’. His throat goes dry at the realisation. He hasn’t been listening, not really.

 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Tweek struggles. “Why don’t you just get back with me? You know I want to. You’ve known this  _ -hnn-  _ whole time that I never wanted to split.”

 

“Because it’s not about you, not really,” Craig says, worrying at his lip with his teeth intensely. “I broke up with you because I was unhappy, but you weren’t causing it. Our habits were, all the weed we were smoking, the shutting ourselves up in the house together, stuff like that. I was so anxious all the time, my migraines were out of control. I didn’t tell you because you’re dealing with your own shit and you won’t even admit it’s happening. I was getting too paranoid to leave the house and I freaked out and broke up with you. It was a whim and I regretted it at first but then I thought, after I hadn’t smoked for a while and my head had cleared, I thought maybe it was better for me to be by myself. At least while I’m trying to fix this shit, but I miss you and I worry about you. I think about you all the time, and I’m sorry I handled it so badly.” 

 

He’s gotten quieter as he speaks, the fight leaving his body like spirit rising to the sun. 

 

Tweek remembers this place, but he doesn’t remember it the same way. He didn’t feel trapped or like a shut-in, he felt fully enveloped in Craig and that had felt like a good thing - or so he’d thought. He remembers Craig’s migraines sometimes put him out of action for days at a time, lying together in the dark with Tweek just trying to make Craig feel better in any way he could. He hadn’t thought about how bad that cycle of  _ smoke, drink, eat, repeat _ might have been for them. He’d scoffed a bit at Craig’s attempts to be healthier. 

 

Wow, he was a piece of shit. 

 

“You could have just said? Why do you think I can’t handle this?” Tweek says, brow furrowed in concern. How did he make Craig think so little of him that he would rather run away than confide in his partner.

 

“You would have tried to talk me out of it. You know you can talk me into anything.”

 

Tweek knows he’s completely right, he knows he is, but he’s not sure how much he likes it right now. All this time maybe he  _ was  _ unconsciously ruining Craig’s life - the thought makes his stomach tighten painfully.

 

“I’m not emotionally incompetent, man, we could’ve got through your  _ -nghh-  _ your shit together,” he says and twitches uncomfortably.

 

“I don’t think that.” Craig sighs. “I just wanted to do something for me. Just me.”

 

“You always act like you’ve gotta come look after me, but I’m not  _ -ah-  _ allowed to look after you? That’s not fair man, I could have helped.” Tweek would have tried, at least. He’s not perfect, but he loves Craig enough to give it a genuine go. He resents the idea that Craig can just decide whether he’s fit or not.

 

“We fed into each other, Tweek. Badly. It’s not that I think you can’t handle things, it’s that we were on this endless feedback loop. I figured in the back of my brain that maybe if we spent some time apart, maybe we’d be in a better position to be together later. I dunno, I don’t really understand why I did what I did either.” And Tweek believes him. He knows that feeling way too well. He wishes that he could explain to Craig just  _ how  _ well he relates, but he can’t find the words. 

 

“I agree,” Tweek says quietly and Craig looks surprised. Tweek doesn’t blame him, seeing as most of their conversations about their break-up have ended with Tweek getting defensive and angry. 

 

That’s not to say Craig is blameless. His mishandling of his own emotions is a big part of why they’re here in the first place.  

 

“But I can help you, if you need it. As your friend,” Tweek says sincerely.

 

Now, he is listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	16. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek begins to realise some things about himself. He and Craig have a moment almost like the old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a part two to the last chapter, again I split a long one into two. Action will begin to pick up after all this talking after this chap. Thanks everyone :)
> 
> Soundtrack: Desire - Years and Years

Tweek stayed at Craig’s place for most of the day. He slept away the day snuggled at Craig’s side while Craig played some video game (on mute to accommodate Tweek’s hangover.) 

 

Tweek had decided for himself that their history was far too intense and important to ignore. He didn’t mind if they stayed friends, and he also didn’t mind if maybe they were a little more than that - as long as Craig wasn’t seeing someone else, Tweek didn’t see the harm in being friends who cuddle (and maybe bang) sometimes. 

 

Tweek doesn’t see himself being in some kind of committed or exclusive relationship with someone other than Craig anytime soon. Granted, Craig doesn’t seem to want that either, but Tweek knows Craig and his ethics - if Craig found a new partner, he wouldn’t cheat and fuck around with Tweek. 

 

(Tweek would never admit it out loud, but he’s pretty sure he’d cheat on a new partner for Craig. He doesn’t think he wants to wrestle with that part of himself just yet.) 

 

They can go back to being genuine friends for now.

 

Even though their first kiss had been a slightly tipsy one at a party, Craig (still to this day) insisted that it didn’t count. That he had to take Tweek out on a date first for them to officially be a couple - he wanted their first kiss to be sober and most probably planned. (Tweek had nothing to do with this planning.)

 

Tweek was much more nervous about an official date than he was in regards to Craig drunkenly attacking his lips. Turns out, Craig was too - the whole thing started out as formal and stiff, but then Tweek managed to spill a drink, and some of Craig’s pasta fell off his fork onto his jeans. They both couldn’t stop laughing, people in the restaurant had definitely been staring, but that somehow seemed to make things easier. The ice melted, conversation flowed and things started to feel more normal again. 

 

Tweek had never enjoyed the company of someone he was having sex with so much, and fifteen year old him wondered if maybe that was love? Having sex with Kenny was more like a means to an end: it wasn’t  _ bad,  _ but it wasn’t soulful. Tweek didn’t have the word for it, but their connection wasn’t the same. 

 

Tweek, back then, didn’t know how to reconcile Craig’s inexperience with his own. For Tweek, sex hadn’t been something to really think about or worry over. He’d wanted to, Kenny had wanted to, easy, done - another teenage milestone achieved. Craig wanted to wait, be careful and to make it special. 

 

Tweek tried to initiate drunk boning a few times and Craig had never bit. The first time had to be special, sober and romantic: three concepts Tweek wasn’t very familiar with. It made him slightly nervous. 

 

Kenny hadn’t been a virgin, what if he fucked up and made Craig’s first time awful? What if sober Tweek wasn’t actually all that good in bed? Sober Tweek certainly wasn’t as confident or smooth in any sense of the word. Sober Tweek was also acutely aware of his shortcomings, both physically and personal. Tweek couldn’t really fathom why anybody would want to have sex with him, let alone special romantic sex.

 

He felt less pressure with Kenny because there wasn’t really anything riding on it. They were both drunk and/or stoned, and Tweek didn’t really care if Kenny noticed the bit of pudge on his belly or the stretch marks on his thighs. Maybe his clothes made him look more appealing than he actually was? Maybe Craig would be horrified when he took them off? He just didn’t know, he was pretty sure Craig had at least seen him with his shirt off at certain points (and vice versa). 

 

But sex was different. Everything was up close like a microscope, you could see everything as you moved together and maybe Craig wouldn’t like what he saw?

 

At least they sort of worked their way up to it: there were some awkward hand jobs and Tweek taught Craig how to give a fantastic blowjob (in his humble opinion). 

He was pretty sure he’d die of pure nerves if they just went straight to dick-in-the butt action. It’s not like Craig was saving himself until marriage or anything - it was more about sentiment, doing it with the right person or something. 

 

Tweek didn’t even have to be ‘the one’, Craig was much more realistic than that, but Tweek did need to be the person that Craig could look back on and not regret sleeping with. The longer they stayed together and the more comfortable they got, Tweek started to feel more and more like he could be that person. 

 

He let Craig call the shots. He did so out of respect for Craig’s sentimental convictions, even if he didn’t share them. Tweek wanted to be sure that Craig got whatever he was waiting for. Craig seemed just as determined to make sure it was a good time for Tweek too. 

 

Tweek had just assumed he’d be the one on the bottom, mainly because he’d done it before and bottoming is kind of intimidating the first time you try it. He figured the less pressure on Craig the better, so he was down for pretty much whatever Craig preferred. Craig had surprised him:, he wanted to bottom, although Tweek kind of suspected that Craig had been experimenting solo. He was impressed more than anything - Craig wasn’t innocent, not really, just a big old sap. 

 

There really hadn’t been much in the way of romance when Tweek and Kenny collided - it was more like a desperate angry race neither could win. Not much in the way of light touches or kisses, and definitely nothing slow or purposeful.

 

With Craig, though? Tweek wanted to kiss him everywhere, he liked to grab his hips to leave bruises and he liked to nip and suck hickeys all over Craig’s neck. He didn’t think of himself as particularly possessive, but in the heat of the moment he wanted to make Craig  _ his  _ and he wanted everybody to know it.

 

The first time though, before they’d learnt to navigate the map of each other’s bodies - before they’d even begun to try their hands at cartography. It wasn’t something out a movie, or at least probably not the kind of movie Craig was thinking of anyway. Tweek feels like most of his life is like the comic relief scenes of a teen movie - Total Teenage Fuck Up Embarrasses Himself in Public Again, more at eleven. 

 

There was definitely an awkwardness hanging in the air, neither of them quite knew what to do and Tweek still had some comic-worthy memories of his own first time bouncing around his brain. 

 

( He’d topped his first time and he’d been terrified of hurting Kenny the entire time. The first time he bottomed was much more scarring. Here’s the deleted scene from the trashy teen movie - Kenny had forgotten to go slow and it had fucking hurt. Kenny spent the rest of the night apologising.)

 

B ut here, now? Tweek and Craig were both sober, which meant that the overthinking and anxiety were amplified tenfold. Tweek was concentrating so hard on being considerate - remembering how it can hurt if you fuck it up. Tweek wasn’t so bothered that he lost his virginity under a cloud of smoke in Kenny’s bedroom, but he wanted better for Craig.

 

It happened after the first time Craig had taken him stargazing. 

 

Craig had this old telescope he’d bought secondhand as a kid that he adored almost as much as he adored his guinea pigs. There was a lot more to it than just Craig showing Tweek the twinkling night sky. Watching the sky and navigating its tapestry - that was Craig’s thing. Craig was letting him in, showing him the bits of his soul, like one big, giant enveloping ‘I love you.’ 

 

Tweek knew it was going to happen that night even if it hadn’t been said out loud - Craig was ready. 

 

They’d gone back to Tweek’s afterwards,  the location strategically chosen for how desolate it near-permanently was. They could have done it anywhere they wanted. They could have gone for it right on the kitchen countertop without Tweek’s parents noticing anything amiss. Despite all the exotic locations available to them, Craig still chose the familiar haven that was Tweek’s bedroom. 

There was a different energy that night, and Tweek was positive that the adrenaline of the unknown was the biggest contributor. That and the excitement Tweek struggled to contain every time Craig deepened their kisses instead of pulling back.  _ This was it. _

 

Tweek wanted to bite but he knew better, knew to take it slower even if his body was screaming for him to do the opposite.  They’d stopped to catch their breath and Craig had given his okay with a small nod.

 

It was in that moment Tweek realised how happy he was that they had waited. That they knew each other well enough to appreciate this moment. 

 

Even if Tweek wasn’t as smooth as he hoped he’d be, even if they started laughing halfway through because Tweek hadn’t quite gotten the angle right, or that it had taken them a few attempts to find the right rhythm. It was how imperfect the whole thing was that made it feel perfect to Tweek, made him treasure the memory more than if they’d just fucked drunk at a party like Tweek had originally wanted. 

 

Sometimes Craig gets things right, and Tweek loves that he does.  

 

He nuzzles his nose further into the side of Craig’s hip, smiling to himself at the memory. Craig is still playing whatever game he’s had running for the past few hours, but the clicking of buttons stops when he feels Tweek move in closer. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Craig asks shyly.

 

Tweek doesn’t want to say  _ ‘you’  _ because not only does that feel pathetic, it’s also borderline creepy. 

 

“The first time we banged,” he says instead. _Way to go Tweek, nailed the less-creepy angle._

 

“I think about it too, sometimes.” Craig places the controller on his lap and threads one hand through Tweek’s messy bed hair.  _ Damn  _ that feels nice. He has to stop himself from nuzzling closer into Craig’s palm.

 

“I still don’t know what you  _ -ah-  _ you saw in me back then?” he says, stifling a yawn. Sleeping all day has its consequences.

 

“What are you talking about? There’s literally nothing wrong with you, Tweek,” Craig says while frowning down at him. 

 

Tweek has both arms wrapped around Craig’s lower waist and hips. His left arm is draped over Craig’s legs as it winds around to meet his right at Craig’s right hip, and Tweek’s face is still snuggled into Craig’s left. The hand that was so nicely stoking his hair now rests lazily at his back. 

 

“I distinctly remember you telling me that I was  _ -nnn- _ crazy the other day,” Tweek teases, a cheeky smile gracing his features as he does so.

 

“That’s not something that’s wrong with you, it’s something that happens to you,” Craig says. His fingers are rubbing soothing circles into Tweek’s back. Tweek feels like he could fall asleep all over again, despite the fact that he’d already lost the entire day to unconsciousness. Craig is still talking, and the monotone of his voice is weirdly relaxing. “It doesn’t make you any less you.”

 

“I’m not  _ -hnn-  _ crazy, I just went off the rails a bit because my boyfriend broke up with me. I’ll be okay.” Tweek looks up at Craig with a good-natured smile to let him know he’s only playing. “I don’t mean that anyway,” he says with a shrug. “I meant because I’m the most  _ -nghh-  _ undesirable person ever. I’m always embarrassing myself in public, I can’t speak properly and I was  _ -ah- _ fat back then. You looked at that hot mess and were like, yeah, I’d hit that.”

 

He’s trying to be funny, but Craig seems determined to be in a serious mood.

 

“I don’t see you like that,” Craig says kindly. “I saw you as someone who says what they thinks, someone who cares deeply about other people and you’re honest to god hilarious. Even if sometimes you aren’t trying to be.”

 

Tweek has to laugh at that last bit, because it’s so painfully true. He’s so proficient at embarrassing himself, he should be paid for it.

 

“You and I both know you have never been fat,” Craig continues, ever serious. “You were kinda chubby but I’ve always liked that on you. I like you however.”He pauses for a minute, considering if he should say whatever he’s thinking out loud.

 

“I love the art you make. The painting you did of Jupiter for my birthday is still on my wall behind you,” he says, pointing somewhere behind Tweeks head.

 

Tweek doesn’t want to look. He hasn’t painted anything in months, even before he and Craig broke up. He hasn’t felt creative in nearly a year without realising it and the reminder makes his guts twist uncomfortably.

 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so disappointed in himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	17. Do it Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek isn't crazy, is he?
> 
> Soundtrack: Do it Again - The Chemical Brothers

Tweek slept it off- it was just a damn hangover after all. 

 

Craig is just a worrier, or at least when it comes to Tweek he is. He turns a blind eye when Clyde is pulling a dumb stunt “for the ‘gram, dude,” or if Cartman calls him a fag for refusing to buy into whatever scheme he’s cooking up. If Tweek is involved though, oh boy, Craig’s worry switch flips and he’s all over the situation- real or perceived. 

 

He’s okay, just still a little jumpy, like he’d overdone it with the caffeine. Maybe he has? He hasn’t exactly got a mind for details to start with and the last few days, hours, minutes even, are kinda blurry. 

 

After he left Craig's place he’d gone straight back to sleeping the day away and had only properly awoken after the sun had set. He probably had coffee then—he doesn’t remember—and then he’d stayed up all night.

 

He’d been thinking about painting almost the whole time since he’d left Craig’s place, but what on earth could he paint? Instead he washed all the dirty dishes his parents never bothered to do, made himself dinner for the next few nights, washed all the filthy clothes scattered around his bedroom, and then vacuumed the whole house until he was sweating from the exertion.

 

He was still awake and he still didn’t know what he could paint. 

 

He went to school on the Monday with lots of thoughts pinging around his brain but none of them were sticking. He could paint the guinea pigs wearing funny hats maybe? Kenny would probably let him paint him? He could try another space-scape? Bebe has the biggest tits of the girls in his grade- maybe he could paint her topless? She’d probably be into that, honestly, but nothing felt  _ right.  _ He couldn’t make himself stay still enough to actually stop and commit to an idea. 

 

He also couldn’t pinpoint why he’d stopped in the first place. He’s pretty good at painting- he’s possibly the best in their art class. So why the fuck would he stop and not even realise he had? The thought irritated him like an itch. He fidgeted and twitched much more than usual throughout his first couple classes. Wendy kept staring at him like he was about to explode. She and Bebe kept exchanging meaningful looks as though they knew something Tweek didn’t and it took every ounce of discipline he had not to turn around and scream, “WHAT?!”

 

Did they know something he didn’t? Were they plotting something? God, maybe they could read his mind or something else horrible? 

 

He and Clyde decide to go down behind the art buildings to smoke a joint instead of going to math. Tweek thinks that it might ease his restlessness a little. He almost feels angry at Craig for reminding him just how uncreative and unproductive he’s been.

 

He doesn’t even mind if he misses his next class if he’s honest. Sitting in a room with his peers who can possibly read his mind is daunting. Maybe he should take up running? He’s always been pretty unfit but he lost a bunch of weight after he and Craig broke up, and how is he meant to keep it off he doesn’t? He might need to clean the shower again, who knows what kind of germs grew there overnight? God, maybe he should vacuum his room again while he’s at it? 

 

As they walk the halls he passes Heidi - she makes direct eye contact with him with a weird, foreboding look in her eyes. It instantly makes Tweek want to drop his head and break her gaze. His heart starts beating too fast and he doesn’t know why. Dread pools in the pit of his stomach but he’s genuinely not sure what he’s meant to be afraid of. 

 

He swallows it. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him most days and today is no fucking different. 

 

When they finally get there, Craig has beat them and he’s in some kind of intense conversation with Kenny. Right, they aren’t talking because he slept with Kenny. God, they just need to get over themselves- make a decision and fuck off. Tweek is sure he could fuck both their overdramatic asses off and still find someone awesome to bang. He thinks he’s pretty bangable most of the time.

 

“He’s clearly not well you fuckstick,” Craig is shouting. “You should have said no and been done with it!”

 

“He’s not a kid Craig,” Kenny says with far less intensity. “You broke up with Tweek remember?”

 

“ _ You  _ should know better!” Craig seethes. “You should know he isn’t in his right mind!”

 

Tweek rolls his eyes and pushes past the shrubbery obscuring him from Kenny and Craig's view.

 

“ _ ‘He’  _ is right here  _ -nghh-  _ assholes!” Tweek interrupts, and both Kenny and Craig fall silent, just standing there staring at him with their jaws hanging like lemmings.

 

“Stop calling me crazy,” Tweek says, pointing at Craig. “Stop being a bitch to Kenny because I figured out I could stick my dick somewhere else.”

 

“Tweek,” Craig says slowly, “I’m not mad at Kenny because you, as you so eloquently put it, ‘stuck your dick somewhere else,’ I’m mad that you were like, hallucinating, and he still thought it was a good idea to bang you- or you bang him, whichever.”

 

“Both,” Kenny says before Craig shoots him daggers.

 

“I wasn’t hallucinating,” Tweek says firmly.

 

“What the fuck was that night out in the woods then? Did you just hit me in the face for fun?” Craig challenges, standing tall to make the small amount of height he has over Tweek known.

 

“No,” Tweek says, feeling a little dumbstruck.

 

What  _ was  _ it that made him do that? 

 

“Guys, please don’t fight,” Clyde chimes in, “I just want a goddamn smoke in peace.”

 

“A-fucking-men,” is Kenny’s reply.

 

“You were manic,” Craig says. “I googled it.”

 

“Fuck off, you don’t live inside my head.”

 

“Can you do this somewhere else?” Clyde sighs. “I’m sick of you two.”

 

“Me too,” Craig says- he sounds really tired.

 

“Tweek can fuck whoever he likes Craig, don’t be one of those exes,” Kenny says through gritted teeth.

 

“Fine,” Craig replies. He has his arms crossed and doesn’t look fine at all. He looks livid.

 

“Fine,” Kenny echoes, and they fall into stony silence.

 

“Great!” Clyde says. “Now everyone shut the fuck up and let me have my smoke.”

 

When Tweek gets home he doesn’t feel any calmer, so he cleans the house until he can’t anymore, until he makes his way wearily to his bedroom and passes out. It’s only for a few hours though, tops.

  
  
  


In the early hours he startles awake suddenly to the sound of human voices.

He darts his eyes around frantically looking for the source of the sound then the realisation dawns in him.

 

Oh Jesus, they’re talking to him again? Why are they talking to him again?

 

They don’t talk in English, so he never knows what the fuck they want. The only thing he is sure of is that he can’t go back to sleep. Not when he doesn’t know their intentions, no- he has to be ready. 

 

Briefly, he considers calling Craig, because Craig used to sit with him when they talked to him sometimes. Craig is the only other human person who knows about them and he never used to call him crazy. 

 

He puts the phone down though, because Craig  _ does  _ think he’s crazy, doesn’t he? Tweek had thought he could be trusted, that he didn’t mind Tweek’s eccentricities and weirdness. Craig never accused him of making them up, but now that illusion has shattered. Craig has been playing him for a fool all along. Maybe the whole time they dated Craig was just pitying poor, crazy Tweek.

 

Really though, who could actually love someone like him? 

 

Absolutely nobody, he’s sure. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	18. Crying in the Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek continues to be careless and off the rails. All I can really say is hold on - things just get crazier from here out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Crying in the Club - Camila Cabello

Tonight is slightly different from the usual; they’re at Bebe’s house instead of Token’s and it's a weeknight. Meaning in theory they are going to school tomorrow. Tweek highly doubts anybody will make it— he certainly isn't planning to. 

 

He’s his third shot in but he’s having fun, any thoughts of Them and last night fading with the sunrise. He wasn’t able to sleep during the day despite pulling an all nighter and he was quickly running out of chores to do. The house was pretty damn spotless so he began to drink to quell his boredom. The trusty tequila bottle has never let him down before and he doubts that it’s about to start. 

 

It’s all he can do to pass the time before he staggers over to Craig’s place drunkenly and they make out a little before heading to Bebe’s together. 

 

Craig knows that Tweek is clearly drunk but he stays stoically silent. If he’s worrying or judging he doesn’t make it known, which Tweek is grateful for.

 

The first thing Craig does when he walks into Bebe’s living room is pour himself a shot, so Tweek figures maybe his day didn’t go too well either. Tweek knows Craig was supposed to be curbing his drinking, but he returns the favour and keeps his mouth shut. 

 

The alcohol has slowed down his brain a little, enough so that he doesn’t feel like he has to question everything and anything. Drugs aren’t bad, you just have to know how to use them. He happily pours Craig drinks when he asks even if there’s a little bit of him that thinks he shouldn’t. 

 

Unfortunately for pretty much everyone around him, Tweek stopped listening to the sensible bit of himself a long time ago. 

 

They sway drunkenly together to a Die Antwoord song in Bebe’s living room until Craig suggests they go for a smoke. Tweek really doesn’t need to be told twice. He hasn’t had one since right before he and Craig hopped in the car to drive here. 

 

Tweek doesn’t realise just how hot his face has gotten until the cool air hits his skin. He steps off the small porch and lays himself down on the grass. The feeling is cooling and almost instantly relieving. Craig isn’t so impressed.

 

“What the fuck are you doing now?”

 

“It’s cool down here,” Tweek says, and pats the grass next to him. “Come.”

 

“You’re such a weirdo,” Craig laughs, but he takes his place beside Tweek all the same. 

 

Tweek looks up at the sky; it’s clear tonight and he can make out tiny pinpricks of light that twinkle down at him and Craig. The stars are long dead, light-years back in time, but their light only reaches them now. 

 

Tweek wants to bear witness to when they still burned, to listen to the story they’d tell. He turns back to ask Craig about them when he realises that Craig has been looking at him this whole time. With the same wonder and intent that the universe captures in him, like he’s made of stardust. 

 

He hears footsteps and sees two girls walking past—Heidi and Wendy. It jerks him out of his lovestruck gaze and he makes sure to look the other way. Before he even really gets a chance to, Craig pulls him over so that Tweek rolls over on top of his chest. Craig pulls him in close and he gets a face full of Craig’s worn old t-shirt. He smells so good, like vanilla maybe? Tweek inhales again just to savour the smell of him. 

 

“He’s mine!” Craig sloppily calls out. “You can’t have him!”

 

Tweek lets himself curl closer into Craig. He wraps his legs around and intertwines them more. Two stars being pushed and pulled, distorted by gravity until they collide.

 

“I’m not yours,” he says quietly.

 

“That hickey on your neck says you are,” Craig says, and touches it feather light.

 

“Really? Shall we go make off into the  _ -hnn-  _ sunset then?” Tweek giggles. Drunk Craig is such a clingy sap.

 

“Okay,” Craig relents. “You’re mine for tonight?”

 

“Maybe,” Tweek hums. He thinks he hasn’t decided yet. He knows deep down that the answer will be yes. 

 

“I know I said I didn’t wanna bang but you know I do,” Craig moans, like Tweek is torturing him slowly. Cutting him into portions instead of devouring Craig whole.

 

“I knew,” Tweek confirms, he always knew. Craig was saying no out of some kind of weird moral conviction but Tweek knows he always wanted to say yes.

 

“I miss you, miss knowing your body that way,” Craig murmurs, like he is afraid someone will overhear. They are alone in this small patch of lawn in Bebe’s garden. Maybe he’s afraid of Tweek hearing. 

 

“You know I want to, I’ve been telling you this whole  _ -ah- _ time. No strings,” Tweek reminds him— it was Craig’s idea not to go the friends with benefits route in the first place.

 

“I wanna bottom, can I bottom?” Craig whines and presses a wet kiss to Tweek’s forehead. If it were anyone else, Tweek might have been disgusted.

 

“God  _ -nghh-  _ you’re so needy,” he replies and presses his face into Craig’s neck, muffling a fond laugh. 

 

“I haven’t in ages dude,” Craig says. “You know how much I love it, love you.”

 

“Yeah I know, you’re a fucking  _ -ah- _ slut for it. I got you.” Tweek grins. He enjoys having this kind of power over Craig. After Craig ended their relationship so suddenly he essentially stripped Tweek of it.

 

“Can we now?” Craig says, ever needy and clingy. Did no one ever tell him whining is super unattractive? 

 

“No, we’ll bang when I fucking say we will. Right now we’re looking at the stars and you’re loving me - don’t ruin this with your  _ -nnn-  _ dick,” Tweek commands. “We haven’t even had that smoke we came  _ -hnn-  _ out here for.”

 

“Fine then, bossy,” Craig says, reaching for the cigarettes he knows will be in Tweek’s back pocket. Tweek slaps his hand away.

 

“Fuck off, get your  _ -ah-  _ own!”

 

“I’m lying on mine and you’re lying on me,” Craig says flatly, like this problem can’t somehow be rectified. 

 

Tweek doesn’t go to move though. He’s loving the warmth of Craig’s body against his and he refuses to give that up over cigarettes. So he relents and pulls out his own pack and offers Craig one—his beloved alien lighter still going strong. 

 

It’s going to run out soon and Tweek can’t bear the thought, the thought that not even the biggest, brightest or oldest stars can burn forever. They all run out of fuel one day, just like his stupid, treasured alien lighter. 

 

“Can you get me another one?” he asks, lighting his own smoke first. “When this one dies,” he adds, handing Craig the lighter which Craig takes. He eyes it a little before using it

 

“I’ll get you a better one, something even cooler,” he says around his cigarette. It’s a little muffled but Tweek understands. 

 

They smoke mostly in silence, eyes fixated upwards as they blow smoke to the universe. They watch it rise to the night sky, watching the stars die, slowly but together. 

 

It’s all stupid and he fucking hates it. He wishes he could just be over Craig and be done. But tonight has been way too nice to even consider saying no. Magnetic fields and gravity or some shit; Craig would know a scientifically accurate metaphor. 

 

He’s pretty sure he has a magic dick with an insatiable libido to match. When they were together Craig couldn’t keep up half the time. Damn, he’s lucky Tweek didn’t cheat. 

Tweek is excited to reaffirm his status as sex god with Craig. He could probably have anybody he likes, but deep down Craig is the only one he wants. 

 

Craig’s hands are all over him in that sloppy, shameless way he’s been been grabbing at him all night. Tweek doesn’t mind. He sort of likes that everybody can see. That he’s still got it, still got Craig Tucker wrapped around his little finger. 

 

Because they are in public Craig is putting on his  _ I am the man  _ act, which Tweek lets him have even if he doesn’t always approve. Tweek’s happy for the roles to reverse in private.

 

Tweek has his arms around Craig’s shoulders and Craig's are hanging loosely around Tweek’s waist. His hands are on the real prize- Tweek’s ass. Craig has always been fond of his butt, which is fucking fair enough. His butt is pretty nice.

 

Tweek enjoys the proximity of their bodies. Craig’s lips are so close, and Tweek can’t stop himself from staring. He grabs the back of Craig’s head and closes the distance between their mouths. Craig tastes like Tequila and cigarettes but Tweek has a sneaking suspicion he might taste exactly the same. 

 

The kissing is messy. There’s too much spit and teeth. But that’s exactly what Tweek wants. He wants to swallow Craig whole right then and there with everyone watching. 

 

“Come here,” Craig rasps when they finally break apart. Tweek does his best not to whine at the loss of contact. Tweek already knows to jump, because as part of his man act, Craig is going to carry him- it’s a role he’s happy to play for the sake of Craig’s ego. 

 

He leaps up and Craig catches him easily. Tweek wraps his legs around Craig’s skinny waist and Craig nips at his neck. The sensation is so nice that Tweek shivers, his body going slightly lax, and he uses his hands to grab onto Craig’s dark hair for support. 

 

“Fuck me you’re light,” Craig mutters into his neck, and Tweek pushes his face in further as if to say  _ nobody said you could stop.  _

 

Tweek almost wants to go to school tomorrow so he can show off the huge ass hickey he’s bound to have. 

 

Clyde lets out a low whistle from behind them. 

 

Getting upstairs to the bedroom isn’t smooth sailing. Craig sort of drops him halfway up and they have to take a minute just to laugh at their stupid drunken selves. Craig is laughing so hard his eyes are closed and crinkled at the edges. His cheeks are tinged red, and to Tweek he has never looked so beautiful. Craig buries his head in Tweek’s stomach as both their chests shake in unison with laughter.

 

“I’m gonna piss myself,” Tweek says, trying to regain his composure.

 

“You’re ruining the mood,” Craig says, still choking on his laughter.

 

“Okay, okay, let me  _ -ah-  _ go first you fucking clinger.” He gives Craig a light shove and goes to stand. 

 

“You’re gross dude.” Craig laughs.

 

“Go find a spare room, I’ll  _ -nnn-  _ meet you there.” 

 

He heads down the opposite direction of the hallway. He can see into the bathroom- the door is ajar just a crack and Tweek can see that it’s clearly occupied. There’s someone moaning loudly, a girl for sure and another person clearly giving them head. The giver has long dark hair that Tweek can see from the distance. Clearly Wendy. 

 

He grins. He’s not the only one getting laid tonight. He only stops, the smile wiped from his face and his heart dropped to his stomach, when he sees who the receiver is- Bebe.

 

Her eyes go wide when they make direct eye contact and she shuts the bathroom door with her foot. 

 

Tweek forgets his desperate urge to piss and legs it the fuck back to Craig. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blesspastacraig on tumblr if you wanna be friends :)


	19. Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bebe tries to keep Tweek silent, whereas Craig is just trying to keep everything from coming to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Gasoline - Halsey
> 
> Props to Blame Candana for doing this beta job whilst shes been ill. She's incredible <3

The sex they had after wasn’t the slow, intimate kind of sex they’d intended on having. It was more frantic, anxious love making. Both Craig and Tweek have the habit (be it healthy or not) to use sex to calm down when anxious. Tweek jumped Craig before he even bothered to explain what had worked him up. 

 

“You gonna tell me what your problem is? You’re all jumpy,” Craig says afterwards.

 

They’re lying in a totally different bed to the one from last time. That infamous spare room at Token’s has seen some bullshit Bebe’s couldn’t dream of.

 

He doesn’t think he could keep it from Craig even if he wanted to.

 

“Wendy was going down on  _ -hnn-  _ on Bebe in that bathroom,” Tweek says flatly. It’s easier to get it all out as succinctly as possible. 

 

“What?” he says—even the ever stoic Craig sounds shocked.

 

Tweek suddenly feels exhausted. He’s been running around Craig for so long and now he’s got to run around Bebe, Wendy and Clyde? It’s too much, but he’s involved now whether he likes it or not. He knows it’s not a decision he can make on his own so confiding in Craig feels like the only option he has.

 

“Do we tell Clyde?” Tweek asks. Then he puts his head in his hands and groans at the thought. Clyde might cry or maybe scream—he doesn’t want to be around for that. 

 

“Clyde will freak,” Craig sighs. “I don’t know why but he’s head over fucking heels for Bebe.”

 

“I know, he knew she was a  _ -gah-  _ serial dater and he still jumped right in,” Tweek says. “I fucking warned him not to man- he told me he was  _ -nnn-  _ fucking Bebe back when she was still with Wendy.”

 

“God, what a fucking dumbass. They both are,” he says boredly.

 

“We might be disasters but at least we  _ -ah-  _ didn’t cheat on one another.”

 

“Nah,” Craig says, “I know we wouldn’t do that to each other. Wendy should just fuck Clyde and be done with it. Full circle.”

 

“They should just be a triad or  _ -ah-  _ something, even though I’m pretty sure Wendy wouldn’t touch Clyde with a ten foot pole.”

 

“We shouldn’t tell him, it’s not our business and I think it’ll probably all come out on its own,” Craig says diplomatically.

 

Tweek groans dramatically and flops back down on the bed. 

 

“Are you gonna stay with me?” he cautiously asks Craig.

 

“Fuck yeah,” he says. “We’re gonna be so hungover in the morning, better make the most of it.”

 

He lies down next to Tweek and snuggles into his chest. Tweek tries to sleep but all he can do is stare at the ceiling and watch the flitting colours behind his eyes dance around.

 

He doesn’t go to school the next day because he is, as Craig predicted, monumentally hungover. Much more so than he’s been in a while—he vomits on the lawn outside Bebe’s place when he and Craig go to leave. He then shoves Craig for laughing at him.

 

Tweek’s dizzy as they walk home and when he accidentally bumps into Craig he takes Tweek’s hand. It almost feels like it used to, with Tweek’s palms sweating a little and his heartbeat quickening. He still feels sick but he doesn’t mind the butterflies fluttering alongside the nausea in his stomach. 

 

It’s been months since they’ve just held hands and in a strange way it feels more intimate than having sex. That might be because their debauched teenage selves don’t think, they just fuck. Whether it’s wrong or right, Tweek threw away his virginity like he would a used coffee cup. 

 

They used to walk home like this, hand in hand after every party, event or even school, Craig’s silent way of saying  _ ‘you’re mine.’ _ They’re walking because Craig doesn’t feel sober enough to drive his car back, but Tweek doesn’t mind. He likes the walk, even if Bebe’s house isn’t as close to his own. It’s much closer to Craig’s. The sunlight hurts his head quite a lot but the feeling of Craig’s hand in his is totally worth it. 

 

He stops Tweek when he goes to say goodbye and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s an innocent close-mouthed kiss and he only lingers for a few seconds. Craig’s cheeks are bright red and Tweek’s own heartbeat is pounding in his ears—Craig pulls his hat down over his eyes in embarrassment. 

 

“I just wanted to pretend,” he says, before turning on his heels and walking away as quickly as he can. 

 

Tweek watches him go, stunned to silence before he finally collects himself and goes inside. He collapses into bed, curls up and finally gets the sleep that has been alluding him for the last couple of days.

 

Tweek sleeps uninterrupted until he is roused by a sharp knock at his bedroom door. 

 

“What?” he snaps at the intruder before he realises just how odd it is to have somebody knocking on his door in the first place. His parents usually just leave him be. 

 

“Tweek, about last night,” the intruder says softly.

 

It’s Bebe. Damn it, couldn’t he at least get forty-eight hours to regroup?

 

Tweek pulls his blanket up over his face. “No,” he groans. “No!”

 

He’d rather put his dick through a meat grinder than have this conversation now. His skin feels all gritty and he’s sweating alcohol out his pores at this point. He might puke on Bebe’s shoes if she’s not careful. 

 

“Tweek,” Bebe tries again, “I know Clyde is your friend but I am too, and so is Wendy. I made a mistake,  _ please  _ don’t tell him-  _ please.” _

 

Tweek peeks out from under his blanket fortress and sighs loudly.

 

“I don’t  _ -ah-  _ care who you let between your legs, Jesus fuck.”

 

“I drank too much, I didn’t me-“

 

“Don’t care,” Tweek says again. Bebe clearly feels guilty, but Tweek doesn’t want to have to listen to her try to justify it to herself.

 

“You won’t tell him?” she says, just above a whisper.

 

“Not  _ -nghh-  _ not planning on it,” he assures her. “I wouldn’t count on Wendy not to though.”

 

“Wendy won’t tell,” Bebe says, “she loves me.”

 

Tweek frowns. Like that means anything. Even if it does, it’s awfully manipulative of Bebe to use that against Wendy. 

 

“You should just tell him. He’ll be more  _ -hnn-  _ upset the longer you leave it.”

 

“No! No way, he’ll leave me! It was just one mistake, it won’t happen again and he’ll be happier not knowing.” There she goes, trying to justify her shitty behaviour again. 

 

“Bebe,” Tweek says seriously, “Was that  _ really  _ the first  _ -ah-  _ time that’s happened?”

 

Bebe stares at the floor. She wrings her hands together. her whole being collapsing in on herself.

 

“No,” she squeaks, “but it’s the last time, Tweek, I promise.”

 

“If you keep doing it he’ll find out, he’s not that  _ -nnn-  _ oblivious,” Tweek says tiredly.

 

“I want to sleep,” he tells her. “So come lie with me or fuck off.”

 

To his surprise, she slips off her shoes and climbs up on the bed with him.

 

She settles herself down next to him and slots herself in. She’s much smaller than Craig but her warmth is just as comforting. Tweek has a suspicion that he might be providing the same comfort to her.

 

“You won’t tell anyone though, will you?” she whispers.

 

“No,” he confirms. Even if a part of him feels desperately sorry for Clyde, he’d rather not be entangled in this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	20. The Heart Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality is beginning to shift for Tweek, how can we be sure what is real anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: The Heart Dies - Lucy Camp
> 
> This chapter might be a bit confusing, sorry the next few aren't gonna be any better in that sense. Tweek is a pretty unreliable narrator who is very unwell mentally at this point. But it will improve, this is a healing story after all :)
> 
> Thank you so much to Blame Canada for her continuing commitment to this fic! And a huge thanks to metrophobic who took over for a couple of chapters while Tori was ill. Thanks so much to both of you <3

Tweek vaguely remembers Bebe leaving, but he was barely awake for it. She gave his hand a squeeze and whispered a goodbye in his ears before she left. Tweek assumes that she had some place to be or maybe her parents expected her home for dinner.

 

Tweek doesn’t bother to properly rouse himself from sleep to say goodbye back. He just rolls over and fades back into unconsciousness. He has a few hazy dreams that he doesn’t remember and he only gets out of bed when the urge to pee becomes too strong.

 

He goes downstairs after he finishes in the bathroom only to hear the lively noises of chatter and plates clinking. He’s slightly surprised that his parents are home, and even when they are home they usually go straight to bed and are up again before the dawn. They mostly communicate via text and phone calls. 

 

The kitchen is humming actually, a stark difference to its usual state - dark and quiet. Tweek rarely bothered to turn on the lights when he was home and spent the majority of his time holed up in his bedroom.

 

“Tweek!” his mother exclaims. “Baby, how are you?” 

 

“We haven’t seen you in a while son, what have you been up to?” his father asks.

 

His parents are weird; his dad is always oddly formal and his mother has all these affectionate pet names for him even though they almost never see each other. 

 

“Mhmm,” Tweek mumbles in reply. He yawns and rubs his eyes. Even though it’s the evening he doesn’t feel awake enough for the incoming interaction.

 

“That’s not a real answer honey, what have you been doing?” she presses.

 

Tweek shrugs.  _ Drinking too much, staying up all night cleaning the house, pining after Craig? _

None of those things feel like the correct answer.

 

“Just hanging with  _ -hnn-  _ friends and stuff,” he says, hoping that will satisfy her.

 

“I saw you had a _girl_ in your room?” his dad says in that strange creepy tone his voice takes on whenever he tries to ask about Tweek’s personal life.

 

Tweek winces. He had hoped that they hadn’t managed to cross paths with Bebe, but apparently they had. It’s not that his parents are against his sexuality. They were overall pretty fond of Craig and thought that Tweek and Craig made a nice couple. But he knows that deep down they want “normality” for him –  in their eyes, at least. 

 

Tweek knows he’s weird. He’s always been a difficult child. Before he discovered drugs he was highly anxious and had outbursts often. He was pulled out of class for being disruptive. His parents had tried therapy, but they drew the line at psychiatric drugs.

_ Kids that young shouldn’t be on drugs Tweek _ _ – _ _ maybe when you’re older. _

 

As a kid, Tweek knew that he was bad. His parents and teachers told him so, the kids told him he was weird – he knew he was a screw up, he just didn’t know how to stop being one.

 

His parents stopped trying to change his behaviour eventually and instead threw themselves into work.

 

Being gay though? One more weird thing to add to the list. He thinks his parents would probably prefer him to date a girl, even if they aren’t actively against him dating boys.

 

“That’s Bebe, Dad,” Tweek says flatly, “we’ve been best friends since Elementary school.”

 

“I know son, I just thought maybe you were finally moving on from Craig,” his father replies. “You know, if you wanted to date girls we wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Richard,” his mother scolds. “He doesn’t need to get over Craig yet . It’s only been a few months. These things take time – you don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetie.”

 

“I know that, but I just wanted him to know…”

 

They’re talking about him – not  _ to _ him – again. They sometimes do this and it’s part of the reason Tweek likes to avoid interaction with his parents. Mainly because they switch from asking prying personal questions to talking about him like he’s not in the room. 

 

Tweek decides he doesn’t want dinner enough to sit through more conversation with his parents.

 

He misses the school bus the next morning. He’s groggy and sleeps through his alarm.

 

Getting ready feels like a battle. He smothers himself in deodorant instead of showering, changes into the first clean shirt he sees, and leaves his hair and teeth unbrushed.

 

He knows he’s gross, but he just can’t bring himself to be presentable. 

 

He walks to school hoping the exercise might wake him up but it seems to do just the opposite. He all but drags himself into the school grounds, the idea of seeing Craig keeping him going. He makes it to his second class all the same, even if he falls asleep on the desk almost as soon as he gets there and earns a glare from his ever-disapproving teacher.

 

He stays slumped at his desk even after the recess bell rings and only stirs when he feels a hand on his back.

 

“ARGH!” He jumps back to life to see Craig standing over him.

 

“Easy,” Craig says quietly. “Class is over – are you alright?”

 

“Fine,” Tweek mumbles, “just tired.”

 

“Come,” Craig says, and he offers his hand, which Tweek happily takes and lets Craig guide his tired body out to the hallway. 

 

“Have you been drinking or something?” Craig asks him, voice lowered so only they can hear.

 

“No,” Tweek says, shaking his head. “Haven’t had a drink since Bebe’s.”

 

“Oh,” Craig replies. “You’ve been staying up all night haven’t you?”

 

“Not last  _ -nnn-  _ night. For a few days I  _ -nghh-  _ was though.” 

 

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself Tweek,” Craig whispers. “Something bad is gonna happen.”

 

They’re almost to the cafeteria when they’re stopped by a stone-faced Wendy.

 

“Tweek, we need to talk,” she says flatly. “Scram, Tucker.”

 

“Fuck off,” Craig says. “He’s clearly fucking exhausted.”

 

“He can speak for himself,” Wendy growls.

 

“Go,” Tweek murmurs, “I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.”

 

Craig doesn’t look convinced. He frowns at Wendy as if to say  _ ‘don’t you hurt him’  _ and he watches them for a long time as he walks away. Tweek watches him go until he fades into nothing. He turns to Wendy and blinks at her tiredly.

 

“What do you want?” Tweek says, knowing full well what it’s about, and he’s so not interested in having this conversation again. 

 

“I want you to know that you can’t tell a soul what you saw,” she hisses. “Bebe’s stressing the fuck out about it.”

 

“I told her I wasn’t  _ -ah-  _ telling,” Tweek says frustratedly. “Everything I said to her still  _ -hnn-  _ stands, so go ask her.”

 

“If you fuck with Bebe I will  _ end  _ you,” Wendy says with so much conviction that Tweek realises he’s been holding his breath. A thought strikes him suddenly. He wonders if Wendy and Heidi have been talking. Does she have some kind of dirt on him? Maybe Wendy  _ can  _ read his mind.

 

“I’m not  _ -nnn-  _ not going to! Christ Wendy I don’t want any  _ -ah-  _ part in your weird shit!” Tweek exclaims. He can’t explain it, but in that moment he doesn’t doubt Wendy’s capability to ruin him – even if it’s just his reputation. 

 

“Good,” Wendy says her frown warping into a strange smile. “Look after yourself, Tweek.” She turns on her heels and leaves. She sounds genuinely concerned and Tweek is left to recover from the mood whiplash. 

 

Tweek blinks and she’s halfway down the hall – she links arms with Heidi, who is waiting for her. Heidi looks Tweek directly in his eyes.

 

He waits until they’ve both disappeared into the sea of bodies in the cafeteria before he makes his own way to the table where his friends are sitting.

 

At their usual lunch table Clyde is laughing, his arm around Bebe, making jokes and calling her ‘babe.’ Bebe is laughing along like nothing happened, a genuine smile splitting her features and reaching her eyes. Tweek feels a weird pang of guilt in his belly – it’s not fair that Bebe and Wendy can behave so badly and involve him. To just expect him not to tell Clyde, one his best friends, that the girl he’s in love with is cheating on him? If he doesn’t tell, he hurts Clyde ; if Clyde finds out he and Craig have known this whole time he’ll probably be even more upset; if he tells Clyde, he’s going to hurt Bebe – even though he doesn’t agree with her actions, he still doesn’t want to cause his friend pain if he can avoid it. 

 

Maybe if he wasn’t so close to both of them he’d feel a sense of loyalty one way or the other, but he doesn’t – he feels like there isn’t a way to do the right thing by either of them. 

 

He offers what’s left of his sandwich to Clyde, who happily takes it and tucks in. There’s no way he can eat with his stomach tied in knots like this.

 

Craig offers him a lift home at the end of the school day and Tweek accepts with great relief.

 

He’s tired right down to the marrow of his bones and can barely keep his heavy eyes open. Craig seems to know this and Tweek is grateful for his mercy.

 

“What did Wendy want?” Craig asks him tentatively, once they’re seated safely in his car. Tweek thinks he probably already knows but wants to hear it from Tweek regardless.

 

“Just more  _ -gah- _ ‘don’t tell Clyde’ bullshit. Do you think she  _ -hnn-  _ maybe knows something about me? Like a secret?” he asks Craig shyly.

 

“You mean like what happened at Token’s that night, with Heidi?” Craig prods.

 

“No… I don’t  _ -nghh-  _ know.” Tweek doesn’t want to think about what transpired that night. It’s a shadowy thing he only has in pieces and he doesn’t want to find any more. 

 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Craig sighs, “but I want you to know that what happened wasn’t your fault okay? What she did was fucking wrong.”

 

“I shouldn’t have been so nice to her,” Tweek whispers. He’s surprised by his own admission , like it escaped his body without his permission. He gasps a little at the revelation.

 

“No,” Craig says firmly. “You were just being a decent person - it’s not your fault she’s demented. God, I want to smack her with a hammer.”

 

“Cartman  _ -nnn-  _ abused her,” Tweek says, grasping at whatever he can.

 

“Doesn’t mean she gets to do it to you,” Craig says seriously.

 

“I don’t want to  _ -ah-  _ to talk about it anymore,” Tweek says glumly. He honestly just wants to go back to sleep- he has a weird urge to cry weighing on his chest but he fights it back.

 

“That’s okay,” Craig replies. “Do you feel any better than you did before?”

 

“No,” Tweek sighs. “My stomach feels all tight.”

 

“That’s shit,” Craig says bluntly. Tweek closes his eyes and leans against the window. The car ride is short but he wants the minutes of sleep he might get anyway. 

 

Craig is silent, concentrating on the road; the silence isn’t uncomfortable though. Tweek is grateful for it. He thought he could face the loudness and brightness of school but now he realises that the overstimulation has been detrimental. Tweek only comes back to Earth when the car comes to a slow stop. He forces his eyes open and cringes at the harsh daylight.

 

“Can I stay over at your place?” Craig asks him quietly. Tweek knows he’s trying his best not to make him jump. 

 

“I don’t really feel like banging Craig,” Tweek admits, “I’m too tired.”

 

“I don’t want to bang, I just… I think you’re about to have a thing,” he stutters out, choosing his words carefully.

 

“I think you might be  _ -nghh-  _ right,” Tweek sighs. “You can stay, if you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	21. Heartburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek is ambushed and everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Heartburn - Wafia
> 
> Only a few more chapters left guys! I know it may not seem like this story will have a happy ending, but I promise if you just hold on tight I'll get you there. In my experience with bipolar, and my journey to diagnosis - things got worse before they got better.

“Do you think I’m a failure?” Tweek asks Craig quietly. 

 

They’re in the dark of Tweek’s bedroom curled up together on his bed. They’re going to have to get up for school in an hour or so. Tweek had slept most of that time but a nightmare had jerked him awake. 

 

“What? No, why would I think that?” Craig says with a frown. 

 

Tweek stares up at the ceiling. He’s so fucking tired. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this exhausted in his entire life, but he can’t think of a good enough excuse to miss school today. 

 

Especially not with Craig wrapped around him like the warmest blanket in the universe. Tweek can’t make Craig miss school, Craig has grades he’s trying to improve—a life he’s trying to fix.

 

“Because I don’t  _ -hnn-  _ paint anymore,” Tweek says to the ceiling. “You said you loved my art.”

 

His chest feels heavy at the thought. The one thing he had to offer the world he can’t even do anymore. He’s entered the total fuck up zone.

 

“I do love your art, but you don’t have to paint if you’re not inspired,” Craig tells him, trying to catch Tweek’s eye. But Tweek keeps on staring at the ceiling. 

 

“Doesn’t that go against the rules of being creative or some shit?” he adds.

 

“There’s no rules for  _ -hah-  _ art, science boy,” Tweek replies, smiling a little for the first time since that night at Bebe’s. He sighs, because he knows it’s not going to last. He’s going to go back to feeling empty almost straight away.

 

“But really,” he says seriously, “I feel like I’m not me anymore without  _ -nnn-  _ art. That’s all I used to  _ do,  _ I’m not really  _ -hnn-  _ anything without it.”

 

“It’s not like you’ll never paint again dumbass, nobody chopped off your arms. You’ll think of something when you’re ready…” Craig trails off, looking for the right thing to say. “I don’t think spark is something you can just conjure at will. I mean I wouldn’t know, I can’t paint for shit.” 

 

Craig keeps trying to get Tweek to look at him but Tweek doesn’t think he can manage to say the next thing he wants to and keep eye contact. 

 

“Is it just me, or are things kind of  _ -ah-  _ spinning around really fast and then just  _ -hnn- _ stopping?” he asks Craig. “I kind of feel like,  _ -nghh-  _ maybe… maybe I’m not in control anymore.”

 

“ _ You’re  _ the one spinning around like crazy Tweek, I’m just watching you until you fall over,” Craig says, his tone even and his expression serious. 

 

Tweek suddenly feels ashamed;  _ all  _ of this shit is his fault. 

 

Craig probably wouldn’t be here worrying about him if he just hadn’t been nice to Heidi, if he hadn’t tried to get him in bed all the time—if he hadn’t walked in on Bebe and Wendy. 

 

If he’d just kept to his stupid self everyone else would be happier for it. Sometimes he wonders if his existence is even worth it at this point. 

 

“It used to be good, like, I’d stay up all  _ -ah-  _ night and paint. I’d tell myself it was - _ nnn-  _ okay because something came from it,” he says forlornly, “but now all I do is drink. I cleaned the house man, when have I ever  _ -hnn-  _ cleaned my house?”

 

“Cleaning the house is kinda productive?” Craig jokes. Tweek elbows him. “But no, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you clean, like, ever?” 

 

“I hate cleaning  _ -gah-  _ I don’t know why I did it,” Tweek sighs. “I don’t know why I do  _ -ah-  _ anything anymore.”

 

“Dude, you’ve been having a thing for like, months straight. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I don’t think even you can pretend it’s not happening anymore. Something is wrong.” 

 

Tweek knows that of course Craig is totally right, but the idea of saying it out loud feel even more like failure than his lack of creative energy. He also knows that he’s at the end of his tether and that there’s no way he can keep going on like this. 

 

He just doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

 

“Maybe,” he replies and continues staring at his bedroom ceiling.

 

For the most part the day is long and boring. Tweek longs for the weekend desperately and just wishes he could go home. He doesn’t know if Craig is going to come and stay with him again but he would prefer a warm body to being alone. 

 

He doesn’t retain any of the information thrown at his fatigued brain by frustrated teachers. He doesn’t know if sleeping will actually make him feel better. It hasn’t thus far but it’s the only thing he feels like he can do.

 

He was sort of in and out the night before. He'd wake whenever he felt too much heaviness in his chest, or when his stomach clenched too tight and he felt sick.

 

The thing that bothered him the most was that he woke up and wanted to go back to sleep straight after. It was just an endless loop of being tired. For the most part he was just quiet: quiet and zonked. 

 

He spent most of recess slumped over at their usual table and intended to do the same at lunch. But fate, or his stupid friends, intervened.

 

“Tweek,” Bebe says, a little condescendingly too, “Tweek, you’re a zombie.”

 

He is. He knows he is but he doesn’t have the energy to field her concern. 

 

“Are you day drinking again? Are you on something?” Jesus Christ she sounds like his mother. He doesn’t know where she thinks she got the right either seeing as she’s as much of a mess as he is. 

 

“He’s not,” Craig jumps in quickly, “I stayed at his place last night.”

 

“Of course you did,” Clyde snips. “Can you guys just get back together and be done with it?”

 

“No,” Craig says, “now is a terrible time. He’s depressed Bebe, I’ve helped him through it before.”

 

“ _ -Nghh-  _ stop talking like I’m not here,” Tweek manages to get out.

 

“But you’re  _ not  _ here, are you?” Bebe says and Tweek actually wants to scream. 

 

Shit like this is why he isn’t here, dealing with her, Clyde and even Craig trying to deal with him. It’s exhausting and he thinks that maybe they should deal with their own shit before they try to tackle his. Tweek groans and places his head back on the table; maybe he can ignore them and they’ll go away.

 

“No but really,” Bebe presses, “you’ve been really weird since… that night.”

 

Tweek runs his hands through his hair and  _ tugs.  _

 

“Bebe,” Craig says softly, “I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”

 

“Tweek, you’ve got to,” Clyde interjects. “It’s bad for you man, keeping all that shit inside.”

 

“ _ -gah-  _ stop it,” Tweek mumbles. 

 

He can feel his heartbeat quicken and his stomach tighten like a vice. It hurts. He doesn’t understand why they won’t just leave him alone. His head also pounds in sync with his heartbeat—he starts to think maybe this is a migraine. 

 

“I think… I think maybe there’s other things happening,” Craig cautiously says. “Truthfully I think you’re bipolar Tweek.”

 

“No,” Tweek moans. “No I’m  _ -ah-  _ I’m not.” 

 

“I mean… what Heidi did was-” Clyde begins to say before he is cut off by both Bebe and Craig with a chorus of  _ “shut up Clyde”  _ and  _ “stop babe!” _

 

Everything goes silent as the realisation drops on Tweek. 

 

He lifts his head, it’s still aching but he’s livid. He feels hot down to his very core, like he just might breathe fire on everyone who has angered him.

 

“You told him,” he directs at Bebe, his tone a quiet controlled angry.

 

“Bebe, what the fuck?” Craig gasps. “What the fuck?!”

 

“I-I only did it because I was worried Tweek, I wasn’t trying to-“

 

Tweek looks Bebe right the eyes and holds her gaze.

 

“Clyde,” Tweek says evenly, “Bebe’s been fucking Wendy behind your back.”

 

He stands up, turns, and calmly walks out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	22. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are we gonna talk about it,” asks Craig, finally breaking the silence, “or are you gonna spill my dirty secrets too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Bones - Equinox
> 
> Thank you so much to Blame Canada, as always <3

Craig follows him as he storms out of the cafeteria. He walks and walks and walks until he’s out the front gates, his hands shaking while he tries to light a cigarette. 

 

Craig catches up with him and thankfully helps him light his smoke.

 

Tweek doesn’t really remember how they got there, but Craig has guided him to his car. His old, shitty hand me down car that they had most definitely fucked in at some point. 

 

Both Tweek and Craig roll down their windows and smoke in silence. Tweek watches the wind blow both the smoke and the light snow falling around. The snow twirls in the wind before finally finding its home on the ground.

 

Tweek can faintly hear whispers that he is sure is Them but he concentrates on smoking to try and drown them out.

 

“Are we gonna talk about it,” asks Craig, finally breaking the silence, “or are you gonna spill my dirty secrets too?”

 

“No I… I don’t know why I  _ -nnn-  _ did that.”

 

Tweek knows exactly why he did it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he hadn’t.

 

“She shouldn’t have ambushed you like that and she  _ definitely  _ shouldn’t have told Clyde about what happened but outing her like that was kinda mean dude.”

 

“I guess I’m just so sick of you all trying to  _ -ah-  _ look after me,” he seethes. “Bebe and Clyde act like they have everything together and they  _ don’t!”  _ Tweek clenches his fist then releases it. His stomach is still painfully knotted together.

 

“I’m sorry,” Craig says. “I’ll try not to do that from now on.”

 

“No, you’re okay. I mean you don’t talk down to me or  _ -hnn-  _ act like you’re somehow better. You don’t ask me shit  _ -ah-  _ shit like that in public,” he chokes out frustratedly. Tweek knows he probably just ruined every close friendship he has except Craig but he’s still angry—every muscle in his body is painfully tense.

 

“Yeah well, it’s supposed to be private. I don’t think she meant to be an asshole, but she definitely was,” Craig replies, sounding more thoughtful than mad.

 

“I don’t want to have bipolar,” Tweek says suddenly. He chokes a little as he does. A sob makes its way up from his chest and tears brim at the corners of his eyes. It fucking hurts and nobody can help him.

 

“I know,” Craig says quietly. He reaches over to pull Tweek into an awkward hug.

 

“I’m so tired,” Tweek says between sobs, “I just want it to stop.”

 

“I know, babe,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna find a way.”

 

To Tweek bipolar is a life sentence; it means the merry go round isn’t going to stop. It’s not an easy life, Tweek knows nothing about his life is particularly easy, but bipolar on top of all that shit? No. He might as well give up. 

 

He wants to blame the drugs but here in his brief moment of clarity he knows it’s much more than that. He doesn’t want to feel like the rest of his life is a fucking battle just to keep his head above water. He doesn’t want to have to fight all the time. 

 

“My stomach hurts,” he says to Craig when they break apart. “Can you  _ -hnn-  _ take me home?” Tweek wipes away the tears and snot on the back of his hand and tries to quell the odd hiccup leftover from crying. He hates crying. His eyes go all bloodshot and puffy and his headache now feels infinitely worse. 

 

“Of course,” Craig says, reaching for his seatbelt. “I’ll stay over again if you want?” Tweek nods. He knows that whatever the fuck this is, he shouldn’t be left alone under any circumstances.

 

The bed is warm when he finally lets himself sink into it. He wishes it would swallow him whole and melt him out of existence. He wants to sleep, he wants it more than anything, but he still feels way too sick. 

 

Instead he lays on his side and stares at the wall with Craig curled up beside him. A sharp pain spreads around his molars as a reminder that he’s clenching them to dust again. If he keeps going on like this they’ll crack and be ground to nubs.

 

He can hear the flicker of whispers in his ear. He lets Them do their talking but he pulls Craig’s arm tighter around him all the same. 

 

“Can you  _ -nnn-  _ talk over Them please?” Tweek asks him softly. Craig has intertwined their fingers together and gives his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.

 

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been googling bipolar you know?”

 

“No,” Tweek says and squeezes his eyes shut. This wasn’t what he meant at all.

 

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it but hear me out okay?” Craig says, his words all tumbling out quickly incase Tweek goes to interrupt. “It doesn’t have to be the worst thing ever. You might have not have it but like if you did, there’s been new research and medications and things. Giving it a name means you could actually start to feel better.” Craig sounds so sincere that Tweek wants to cry. 

 

Why can’t he  _ see,  _ there’s nothing anybody can do. He’s just a toxic, horrible person.

 

“Nothing will make me  _ -ah-  _ feel better,” he says, defeated.

 

“You don’t know that, you haven’t tried. I just- okay, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been going to this doctor for my anxiety. She’s helpful, more than I thought she’d be- maybe somebody similar could help you?” Craig is almost ranting again; he’s nervous. Tweek doesn’t know why. Taking control of his life like that is pretty brave, actually. Tweek could never do the same.

 

“You?” he replies, genuinely stunned. “You went to a  _  -nghh-  _ doctor?”

 

“Yeah, you’re the first person I’ve told at school,” Craig says bashfully. “Keep it quiet please.” 

 

“Of course, but nobody is gonna judge you dude,” Tweek says, trying his best to reassure Craig, for him to know that his nerves aren’t needed. Tweek wishes he could really  _ be there  _ for Craig like Craig is always for him.

 

“I know, I just like that I’m doing this for myself. Other people don’t need to be involved,” he says. “It’s my thing.”

 

“I don’t think anyone can help at this point,” Tweek says forlornly. “A doctor would probably just say I’m  _ -ah- _ making it all up.” 

 

“There is no universe in which that would happen,” Craig says, sounding so damn sure Tweek almost considers it. He knows that Craig is probably right but he just doesn’t want to go—doesn’t want to make all this real.

 

“My parents wont pay,” he tries again. Excuses, excuses.

 

“They might,” Craig says with hope in his voice. 

 

He kisses Tweek right between his shoulder blades and the sensation makes Tweek’s breath hitch a little. He knows Craig wants the best for him, but he’s had enough for today.

 

“I don’t want to. Talk about  _ -hnn- _ something else,” he mumbles. He hates how weak he sounds but he just doesn’t have the energy to put on a bravado front.

 

“Okay, well, I had a great time at Bebe’s,” Craig says fondly, nuzzling into that spot he just kissed. Tweek shivers a little. His touch is the only thing making Tweek feel human right now.

 

“Yeah, when my stupid self got us all in  _ -ah- _ trouble,” he says miserably.

 

“No, like before, when we were lying out on the grass and shit. That’s what I’ve been missing.” Craig sounds so nostalgic, and Tweek can hear the smile in his voice.

 

“That part was nice, the sky was really pretty,” Tweek concedes.

 

It was a nice night, the stars were gorgeous. He almost felt like they were twinkling just for himself and Craig, which is absurd now he thinks about it, but drunk-Tweek had felt so sure. 

 

“It was, it really reminded me of all the things I love about you. Why we were together in the first place,” Craig says. Tweek doesn’t think he needs to be reminded. All the things he loves about Craig seem to follow him to make sure he never forgets. Craig pulls him even closer, so that he is squeezing but it isn’t uncomfortable. 

 

Tweek feels safe. 

“Yeah, but it’s not like you love me anymore,” he sighs, remembering the present.

 

“I have never, ever said that? I’ve told you that I love you, like several times since we’ve broken up,” Craig says matter-of-factly. “I think I made a pretty good effort to let you know that I didn’t break up with you because I’d fallen out of love with you.” He squeezes Tweek’s hand again. “I didn’t understand what I was doing. I understand things, predominantly me, better now.”

 

“Is that your stupid, Craig way of saying you  _ -nnn-  _ love me?” Tweek says, laughing a little. 

 

It’s good to know he can still do that. Laugh.

 

“It’s my stupid, Craig way of saying I never stopped. Which I think you already know, shithead,” he teases.

 

“I do, I just struggle to believe it. I’m a mess, man,” Tweek says with honesty. He doesn’t know how anyone could love him, let alone someone as wonderful as Craig. He’s such a shitty, self-centred person. 

 

“Me too.” Craig says sympathetically. “I think my brand of crazy was feeding into your crazy in a really bad way.” 

 

Tweek knows, knows it’s all his fault, that he’s toxic and bad. He just wishes he could fix himself, be normal like everyone else.

 

He very visibly deflates.

 

“But,” Craig continues hurriedly, “I also think that being apart was good, it made me realise that what we had is worth saving—worth working on.”

 

“Is this you  _ -nghh-  _ asking me what I think you’re asking me?” Tweek asks, stunned.

 

_ Is this really happening? Am I making this up? _

 

“No, sort of, I’m saying I want to try, maybe when you’re feeling better. We can just be us for now,” Craig says kindly. “No pressure.”

 

There’s never any pressure with Craig, Tweek thinks tiredly. 

 

Consciousness fades in and out, almost like a TV switching between static and channels. The channel is a feeling, the feeling of something burrowing, sucking into an open wound. Tweek smells the coppery odour of blood but he’s not actually awake enough to reach around and find the source. 

 

The static—no, he’s imagined it. Probably, maybe.

 

No, it’s there, it’s running down his back and something is moving. Something is burrowing inside him, desperate to have his blood for itself. It hurts, and the thing is wriggling. 

 

He reaches around his back just below his right shoulder blade, he can feel it—blood, thick and gushing. It’s slippery and warm on his fingertips, he reaches slightly higher and finds the bloods origin. 

 

He can feel that, right in the middle of the giant, bleeding, gaping hole in his back—a lump. 

 

A lump of something alive. He grabs desperately but the thing is burrowed deep. It clamps down and Tweek struggles to get it free of its own suction. His fingers are slippery from the blood and he can’t keep his grip. He keeps losing it, it gets deeper and he loses ground. 

 

He screams. Strong hands grab at his shoulders and he is brought back to the quiet of his bedroom. 

 

Craig’s fingers are squeezing at his shoulders as he tries to catch his breath. He whips around to claw at the spot, feeling for the phantom that clearly is no longer there. 

 

He looks at his hands. They’re clean—no blood. 

 

He feels nauseous. He can still smell the blood and feel it slipping through his fingers. It was there, he was so sure. His hands are shaking and he gags a little, trying to get that smell out of his brain.

 

“There’s nothing there,” Craig says calmly, “whatever it is, it’s gone.”

 

Tweek covers his face with his hands, his clean hands that only smell like sweat, not blood.

 

He rocks back and forth a little trying to process his reality. It’s quiet, calm, the static is back like falling asleep with the TV on, white noise hums. The world is right again and back as it should be. He takes a big, slow breath before letting it out and hoping the tension goes with it. 

 

“I can’t  _ -hnn-  _ go to school man,” Tweek says, still panicky. 

 

“No,” Craig replies, “I think we need to stay here.”

 

Tweek lies back down and tries to go back to sleep, but whenever he closes his eyes he can see, smell and  _ feel  _ it all over again.

 

His stomach is still rolling and his hands still shaking—Craig holds him close.

 

Tweek squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore Them, still whispering, always whispering.

 


	23. New Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music pulsates in Tweeks ears. It goes all the way through to his chest, making him feel oddly hollow. He hopes it will drown Them out. They’re so so loud, refusing to be quiet and not allowing his brain to have a rest. He keeps flicking from deathly tired to wired, like an electric shock wakes his brain up and his thoughts just won’t stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG WARNING FOR SELF HARM IN THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE ERR ON THE SIDE OF CAUTION.
> 
> Soundtrack: New Rules (Alison Wonderland Remix) - Dua Lipa

The music pulsates in Tweeks ears. It goes all the way through to his chest, making him feel oddly hollow. He hopes it will drown Them out. They’re so so loud, refusing to be quiet and not allowing his brain to have a rest. He keeps flicking from deathly tired to wired, like an electric shock wakes his brain up and his thoughts just won’t  _ stop.   _

 

Craig wasn’t sure if they should come tonight. Tweek knows he’s been jittery and weird for most of the week. But that doesn’t mean Craig should miss out and Tweek actually thinks it might be better for him to leave the four walls of his bedroom and try to interact with people that aren’t Craig. 

 

That’s what he’d told Craig too, that social interaction might bring him back to reality a little and at the very least he’d have a distraction from the incessant whispering and the racing thoughts. Tweek knew that everybody would be there, even people he didn’t want to see—it’s a party at Token’s and Token always invites nearly the whole school. 

 

He needs to face the music, even if he desperately doesn’t want to. 

 

As far as Tweek knows Bebe and Clyde aren’t speaking, haven’t spoken since Tweek dropped that truth bomb in the cafeteria. Kenny and Craig weren’t on good terms either. Then there was Heidi, whom he never wanted to speak to again, and Wendy, who probably hated his guts too. 

 

Normally he’d probably be stressed and apologising, trying to right his mistakes, but it all just seems so small. He has much bigger fish in his head to fry. 

 

They haven’t been here very long. He and Craig came together with their hands clasped and their faces stoic. Putting on a united front.

 

Craig is already drinking really heavily, which is pretty worrying, but Tweek’s already had a couple himself so he doesn’t feel like he is in a place to judge.

 

Tweek figures after the week they’ve had he should probably look after Craig for once. He swallows down the feeling of dread in his chest, hoping more alcohol will slow everything down. He still has to check over his shoulder every now and again, just in case They’re coming for him. 

 

Craig is totally drunk and Tweek actually manages to lose him in the crowd. He had zoned out a bit, staring at the people dancing and watching how their auras seemed to travel behind them with a couple of seconds’ delay, and when he came back to Earth Craig was gone. Tweek wonders if maybe one of their friends called him over and he’d fucked off with them. 

 

He runs his fingers through his hair nervously. It’s not that he needs Craig, but Craig’s the only person who’s really seen him  _ like this.  _

 

So he just decides to stay in the kitchen. The kitchen is much quieter than the rest of the house so he cements his feet to the floor and stays put. He clenches his fists until his fingernails dig into his palms. He focuses on the sting instead of all the possibilities. 

 

Like, is Craig even a safe person? Is he plotting against him secretly? Maybe he’s in cahoots with Bebe and Clyde? God, there’s no way is there? 

 

_ Shhh babe, I’m gonna make you feel better. _

 

Tweek jumps. They don’t usually speak in English.

 

_ Feels good, huh? _

 

He shrieks. No no no no. Stop. He doesn’t want this! Not that voice, not those words!

 

“Stop it!” he yells. “Leave me alone  _ -GAH- _ !”

 

“Tweek,” somebody says, snapping him back to some kind of reality.

 

It’s Wendy. No, she’s going to kill him. She’s going to slit his throat and sell his organs. He told her secret to everyone.

 

“You’re lucky Bebe likes you,” she says. “I can kinda see what she means though.”

 

“She  _ -nnn- _ likes me?” Tweek says, confused. But he told her secret. You mustn’t tell secrets.  _ Mustn’t tell mustn’t tell mustn’t tell. _

 

“Yeah, she’s not really mad at you, because apparently you’re too much of a basket case to know the difference,” Wendy says casually. Like she’s talking about the grade she got on a test or what she ate for breakfast.

 

“I’m not a  _ -ah-  _ basket case, she told Clyde a secret of mine.”

 

“You’re unwell Tweek, anyone with eyes can see it. I just caught you talking to yourself.” Wendy sounds tired. Tweek can definitely relate.

 

“I don’t want to stay here anymore, can you help me  _ -hnn-  _ find Craig?” he says in a small voice. He’s surprised Wendy even hears.

 

“Of course I can,” she says sympathetically, she links his arm with hers.

 

“Promise you won’t  _ -nghh-  _ kill me?” Tweek pleads.

 

She looks surprised, one eyebrow raised and lines creased into her forehead. 

 

She decides to go with it anyway.

 

“Promise.”

 

There’s yelling, oh God why is there yelling? It’s a crescendo for the ever building, pulsating baseline. The music swells. Tweek feels like someone is banging on the side of his head. The intensity builds—they’re screaming.

 

Craig is screaming, Heidi is screaming, Bebe is screaming and Clyde is screaming. 

 

A car crash to accompany the climax of the music blaring.

 

They’re not supposed be yelling, not here, not in his safe place.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Heidi?! You’re actually fucking crazy!”

 

_ “It was one mistake Clyde, I didn’t mean to!” _

 

“You don’t treat him right! I can treat him properly! I just needed to show him!”

 

_ “Sure, she tripped and fell in your vagina. Right Bebe?!” _

 

“Drugging him until he’s unconscious is treating him right?! You’re so fucking twisted! I hope you rot!”

 

_ “Maybe if you’d paid more attention to me I might not have had to!” _

 

“You don’t deserve him Craig! I  _ do! _ ”

 

_ “I wanted to believe you were different, but you’re a slut just like everybody says!” _

 

“You’re a fucking rapist! A sex offender! You deserve literally nobody on this earth—you’ll fucking die alone you disgusting bitch!”

 

“Noooo,” Tweek moans, but it barely comes out. More like a whimper than a piercing cry. Wendy hears it; she covers his ears and pulls him back from the raging crowd. There’re people craning their necks to glimpse the drama, egging on the intensity and chanting like animals. 

 

“Fucks sake,” is all Wendy says before taking Tweek’s shaking hand in hers and leading him upstairs.

 

“No,” he says again, this time more firmly, and tries to pull her back.

 

“I don’t know what Craig is yelling at Heidi about but I can guess,” she says. “I promise I’m not gonna do any of that. I’ll just take us somewhere quiet okay? Just talking?”

 

“Can you…” Tweek searches for the words, his brain thick with fear and confusion. “Can you show me where your  _ -ah-  _ hands are?”

 

Wendy looks confused but she nods all the same.

 

“Of course,” she says soothingly. “I’ll keep the door open if you want?”

 

“Make  _ -nnn-  _ Craig come get me.”

 

She nods, brow furrowed with concern.

 

“You should definitely go home,” she says, and squeezes his hand. 

 

She finds them a room and wraps him up in her embrace. She texts Craig and doesn’t leave until he gets there.

 

Tweek can hear Craig coming up the stairs. He has a heaviness to his step that Tweek can always hear coming. His cheeks are still tinted red from all the yelling he’s just been doing and his jaw is clenched tightly.

 

“I hate her Tweek! I hate her so  _ mphh!” _

 

_ Crash, _ Tweek slams his lips into Craig’s, his tongue parting his lips and his body pressed as close as it can physically manage. 

 

He wants to smell like Craig, taste like Craig—not  _ her.  _

 

Craig is the one to part them. He cups Tweek’s chin and holds his gaze, his eyes searching, probably for sanity, for control or for something else Tweek has lost entirely.

 

“Tweek…” is all he says. 

 

“Need you to get her  _ -hnn-  _ off me.  _ Please.” _

 

_ “ _ Tweek, you’re not… we can’t. We should go home,” Craig manages.

 

“Please, I want you,” he whines.

 

Craig’s hands feel soft and small, not calloused like they normally are. His eyes aren’t brown, they’re green. 

 

He’s not her.

 

_ “Babe,”  _ she says. Her hands are going down, down, down and he can’t stop them. He can feel her long fingernails against his skin, he can’t stop it, she’s always there—always  _ on him.  _ He’s dirty, covered in her, she won’t leave.

“Babe” she,  _ no  _ he, says again. He’s Craig, not her.

 

Tweek steps back from him. His eyes widen at the realisation and he covers his mouth with his hands to keep from screaming.

 

_ She is not him they are not the same.  _

 

“Babe.”

 

He runs.

 

He runs until he finds himself inside the four white walls of Token’s bathroom. It’s shiny, clean, no pristine—the exact opposite of him. He locks the door behind him—Craig is pounding on the door and yelling. Tweek can’t hear it, only Them, only her. He tries but he can’t stop the thoughts, stop hearing her, feeling her, seeing her. 

 

_ Craig doesn’t love you like I do, just let me show you. _

 

His skin itches. The dirt is embedding itself and seeping into his very soul. It’s going to get into his bloodstream, into his brain, it’s going to get into him and spread. He grips the sink with white knuckles—no, she can’t get in his blood. She can’t get in his soul, she can’t have him, not tonight.  _ He doesn’t know how to get clean.  _

 

_ He’s got to get her out. _

 

_ She’s in his blood. _

 

_ He has to get it out, her.  _

 

He doesn’t even know he’s done it, not really. The razor doesn’t sting and he doesn’t even feel it until he feels the sticky wetness running down his arm. 

 

Slowly, little by little he is draining her away. She’s dripping down his arm and raining little red drops on to the floor, but it’s not enough, he wants her gone completely. He wants to bleach her away. Cleanse his veins from the inside out. 

 

He opens the door, the doorknob is coloured red with her and it’s slippery to the touch. Craig stands on the other side of the door, looking horrified.

 

“Tweek, what have you done!”

 

Tweek ignores him and heads down the stairs, on a mission in his trance-like state. He runs his hand over the crisp white wall, leaving a trail of her as he goes, she makes his hand slide easier. His other hand drips spots of her all over the stairs’ carpet as he descends them.

 

“What are you doing?!” Craig cries, desperately trying to follow, “Tweek,  _ Tweek!” _

 

She stains the glass door as he opens it. He leaves a handprint of her there, instead of on himself. 

 

The pool, the pool is where he can really get clean.

 

His head is feeling fuzzy, like static and a pulsating squeezing. He tries to keep his vision straight and his mind in his mission. The pool.

 

He hears some screams as he stands at the edge, he doesn’t think, just lets himself fall. 

 

He lets himself be soaked, to sink, to let everything fade to black.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bebe says, before taking off her shirt and jumping in after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	24. One Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You two were useless! Tweek is taller and heavier than me you know?”
> 
> “I helped you get him out of the water! Don’t be a bitch because he bled on your favourite shoes.”
> 
> “Ugh, please don’t mention blood again. I can still smell it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCES TO SELF HARM! MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND THINGS LIKE THAT SO BE CAREFUL!
> 
> The aftermath.
> 
> Soundtrack: One Last Time - Ariana Grande

“You two were useless! Tweek is taller and heavier than me you know?”

 

**“I helped you get him out of the water! Don’t be a bitch because he bled on your favourite shoes.”**

 

_ “Ugh, please don’t mention blood again. I can still smell it.” _

 

“Craig, how did you not… why did you let him get out there?”

 

_ “So it’s my fault now? Have you ever had your boyfriend bleed all over you? No? So shut the fuck up.” _

 

“I thought you might have picked up that he was losing his fucking shit, yeah. Gave you too much credit, clearly.”

 

_ “You’re the one who fucked him around with your dirty secrets, not me. Maybe if you’d been paying more attention like a decent friend I could have had a tiny bit of help.” _

 

**“I think this is all kind of… out of our depth. Can we just not fight? Tweek’s gonna wake up to some terrible vibes man.”**

 

_ “Look Bebe, for what it’s worth- I had no idea he was gonna do that. And when he did I just kind of… shut down. I panicked. So thank you, for jumping in after him. Yeah.” _

 

“Yeah, it’s, ah… It’s not your fault Craig. I just feel like shit about the whole thing.”

 

**“We all sorta dropped the ball in the friend department.”**

 

_ Hnnnnnn... _

 

The voices come in waves; they speak in English and feel familiar. 

Not in the way that They do. Tweek can hear them fade in and out as he tries to pull himself into awareness. The sound seems to stretch and warp the harder he tries. 

 

He’s so tired.

 

_ “Is that… Tweek?!” _

 

_ Nghhh... _

 

His arms hurt—a sharp sting zaps its way up his wrists. Every time he feels like he might slip back into unconsciousness and let the waves take him under the pain alerts him and brings him back a little more. His head is throbbing, jumping like an overloaded speaker at one of Token’s parties. Far too much bass and noise scrambling his brains. There’s a churning in his belly that registers on different channels. Sometimes it overwhelms his senses and others it’s like white noise in the background. 

 

_ “Tweek? Babe, look at me.” _

 

Tweek tries his best to pry his heavy eyelids open—the pain and nausea flowing through him rising in intensity as he does. The void is so much calmer. There’s only waves, a gentle push and pull to relax his soul to sleep.

 

He pulls himself from it anyway.

 

His eyes take a minute to focus as he takes in his surroundings. A lot of neutrals, but lots of noise. People moving around and things clanking together. 

A bed, some bandages, some dried red crusted around them.

Craig, Bebe and Clyde staring down at him intently like he’s about to pull some kind of death-defying stunt. 

 

His brain buzzes with all the feedback. He draws a blank trying to figure out where he might be. 

 

He feels like he is swimming through molasses, his physical form heavy and his mind meandering at a snail's pace. His thoughts fight to make it out of his honey-soaked brain. They can’t drip down fast enough.

 

He looks over at Craig.

 

“You called me your boyfriend?” he says, words coming out thick and slow.

 

Craig, Bebe and Clyde are all beaming—Clyde even claps his hands in delight.

Bebe pats Craig on the shoulder.

 

“He’s back,” she says. 

 

——

 

Craig is surprised at how long it takes him to get in contact with Tweek’s parents.

Tweek isn’t. 

 

He knows that the hospital was trying to get through to them as well but he doesn’t know how much luck they had. Craig had been calling them on Tweek’s phone. They are going to come in  _ “at some point” _ but Tweek would really rather they didn’t. 

 

He finds out that Craig, Bebe and Clyde have been waiting at the hospital for him all night, cramped in an over exhausted waiting room with only uncomfortable plastic chairs to rest on. Tweek can’t believe he’s worthy of such devoted loyalty.

 

The nurse who tries to rouse him further seems quite sympathetic; she’s clearly overworked but nice all the same. He only has bits and pieces of her in his memory but he remembers a bleach blonde ponytail pulled back high. Her voice was very calm. The only thing Tweek didn’t like about her was that she said  _ “It’s going to be alright” _ a lot. 

 

Tweek didn’t have enough context to really comprehend any kind of alright. Alright felt very up in the air at this point.

 

He was stuck, trapped between two worlds. One where time moved too fast and another where it moved too slow. Sometimes gravity stalled and he flung back and forth with no direction or purpose, before being pulled back on course to orbit his star. Then once again sucked through a wormhole to a new dimension where everything bounced and echoed all the wrong ways. 

 

No starlight to show him the way home. Some kind of punishment for not being able to think on the same plane, move at the same place as everybody else. 

 

Like his brain had been sanctioned. 

 

He stays sticky-stuck still to his place on the bed, his place in space and time. His own fractured universe, heavy walls in place so he can’t move from one end to the other while the hospital staff, patients and equipment all whizz around him. He remains on pause until his parents choose to make their grand entrance.

 

The nurse made Craig, Bebe and Clyde leave and told him that he needed to wait for his parents. Tweek could only groan in response—he doesn’t quite have the wherewithal to ask what actually happened and he thinks he really only trusts Craig to tell him the truth. 

 

“What happened to my arms?” he asks the nurse anyway, curiosity getting the better of him. She is changing the dressings. He seems to have bled a lot as the dressings are already beginning to get mucky. Granted, he doesn’t actually know how long he was out for—it could be hours or could be days. He doesn’t know.

 

“You hurt yourself,” she says, her voice compassionate but still even and professional. Tweek guesses she’s said that so many times that it’s like telling a colleague what you did on the weekend at this point.

 

“I-I wouldn’t  _ -hnn-  _ do that,” Tweek replies, unsure that he can process this new information. The heavy wall the drugs have built around his brain prevent it from really penetrating his cognition. Tweek doesn’t think he wants to die. Sure, he wants the shit to stop and sometimes he sort of wishes he didn’t exist, but he doesn’t think he’d actually try to harm himself. He wouldn’t, would he?

 

“I’m sorry to say that you did,” she says, “but you’ll feel better soon. We’re gonna look after you.”

 

“When can Craig come back?” he asks; he wants to hear it from Craig. 

 

He knows logically that the cuts on his wrists didn’t appear out of nowhere, but he just can’t bring himself to believe that it was he who put them there. 

 

“Is that your boyfriend?” she asks sympathetically. He nods.

 

“Yes. He can—he can look after me,” he says as passionately as he can muster through the sedatives and painkillers.

 

“He can come back 9 AM tomorrow. You want him to get some sleep don’t you?” she answers, smiling at him warmly. “Try to rest, he’ll be back with you before you know it.”

 

Tweek nods, and he tries.

 

When Tweek’s parents finally do show up he has to be woken from his drug induced sleep and he’s not particularly happy about it. Or that it isn’t Craig who is visiting him. Apparently they’d already been briefed by the doctor about his condition and now it was his turn. 

 

“Why did you do it son?” is his father's first sentence to him.

 

“Did we not do enough for you?” his mother echoes.

 

“We’ve worked so hard so that you could have the best chance in life, why do you feel so unhappy?” his father just continues, not waiting for Tweek to answer. 

 

He doesn’t stop until he is interrupted by the doctor.

 

“Do you remember what happened Tweek?” he asks, and Tweek appreciates that he is talking directly to him instead of over him to his parents.   
  
“No, they said that I… that I did this,” he says, and holds up his wrists for effect.   
  
“You're very lucky. You’ve got some wonderful friends who prevented you from losing even more blood before the ambulance arrived." He pauses, like he's trying to calculate his next words. "It looks like you tried to attempt suicide. We stitched you up and gave you a transfusion." His face is uncomfortably blank as he says so. He’s probably seen this a million times over, just like the nurse.

 

“I didn’t want to kill myself,” Tweek says quietly. “It wasn’t about dying.”

 

“Whatever your motivations were, we have to transfer any patient who harms themselves to the psychiatric ward for further care. They’ll be able to help you much more comprehensively over there.” He’s trying to sound reassuring but it’s not exactly working. He hasn’t got the same compassionate energy the nurse had. 

 

“Drugs are what caused this,” his mother interjects sharply. “Do you really think he needs to have even more psychiatric drugs pumped into him?”

 

The doctor looks annoyed, and Tweek has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. He already appreciates that the doctor is at least in his corner.

 

“There’s a huge difference between illicit drugs and regulated pharmaceutical drugs prescribed by a doctor, Mrs. Tweak…”

 

Tweek just tunes out after that, but he still ends up in psych whether his parents approve or not.

 

——

 

His friends all alternate coming to visit him but Craig comes every day, which seems like a feat to Tweek. Maybe he isn’t going to school at the moment. He supposes the experience must have been terrifying for Craig too.

 

Today he has come with Kenny, who Tweek assumes he must have had some kind of heart to heart with since Tweek decided to paint Token’s house red. 

 

“Sorry I took so long to come visit,” Kenny says, looking guilty and staring at his shoes. Tweek blinks. It hasn’t been that long, not really, a few days max. Granted it has felt like a long few days for him, because psych is boring as shit and he’s been overmedicated out of his fucking skull.

 

“S’okay,” Tweek manages, his voice still dulled and slow from whatever the fuck this medication is. 

 

“Don’t do that again, ‘kay?” Kenny says in an oddly serious tone. 

 

Tweek is not used to Kenny being serious—he tends to make jokes in even the most inappropriate situations and laughs most hardships in life right off.

 

“I don’t wanna,” Tweek says, and he reaches for Craig’s hand.

 

The warmth of Craig’s hand in his is comforting and grounding. He isn’t going to fly away into the never ending sky if he has Craig to tether him. 

 

He hadn’t wanted to go to psych originally (not that he had a choice) but the terrified look on Craig’s face, the memory of Bebe’s shirt covered in his blood and the entire horror movie of what his life had become had persuaded him. 

 

Apparently Bebe had used her shirt to try and stop the bleeding, a shirt she adored too. If it was in her party attire collection then it was definitely a favourite - a white tee shirt with stars where her nipples would be. Totally wrecked now.

 

He didn’t want to be in this place anymore. He wanted the old Tweek back. The Tweek who painted for Craig, for his friends and for himself. Somebody who has healthy, meaningful relationships and most importantly somebody who likes being themselves.

 

“Promise I won’t,” Tweek reiterates. “I didn’t really mean to.”

 

Tweek knows that that statement probably contradicts his actions to his friends and he doesn’t really have a way to explain to them what was going through his head. It had felt like the only way to be him again.

 

“I believe you,” Craig says softly. “Just maybe tell us if it’s getting that bad again.”

 

Kenny is nodding vigorously. “Please dude, I never wanna see your blood all over the walls like that again.”

 

“I’m gonna… uh, I’m gonna do whatever they say,” Tweek says. “Whatever it is they want me to do to get better. I don’t like being  _ -ah-  _ being me anymore. I wanna start again.”

 

His therapist is very straightforward and no-nonsense, which a few months ago might have raised contempt in Tweek but now he appreciates her honesty. She’s seen many before him and will see so many more after and Tweek knows he’s just a blip on her radar. He doesn’t mind though. It gives him confidence in her and her experience. 

 

“I think you are suffering from bipolar disorder with psychotic features,” she tells him very bluntly after a couple of sessions where he tried to describe the logic behind his not-suicide attempt. 

 

And there it is, just like Craig predicted. 

 

Tweek is past denial at this point, even if he can’t accept quite yet that this is for the rest of his life. 

 

He’s as ready to hear it as he’ll ever be.

 

“What do I do now?” he asks her.

 

“The most effective treatment seems to be a combination of both cognitive behavioural therapy and medication,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “These therapies can work well, but it’s a team effort. It only helps if you’re willing to do some hard work to help yourself. You have to want to get better, Tweek.”

 

“I do,” he says. “I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


	25. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This room is what Craig has spent the majority of his twenties working towards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this fic. I appreciate every single comment and kudos! This story has been a roller coaster for me to write but it’s a story I was determined to share it! I hope it has resonated with you guys like it has for me. Thanks for coming along this journey.  
> A huge thank you to @blame_canada and @metrophobic for being wonderful editors for this project. This never would’ve gotten finished without you guys!  
> And a huge thank you to @hamflask @scarlettshazam @hanamachii @JPReadsandstuff for being amazing supporters. I love you guys all so much!

Craig takes in the expanse of the laboratory before him.

 

It smells like disinfectant and is currently unoccupied but it already sort of feels like his. Well, not entirely his—his and his cohorts but still. 

 

A piece of him, a very, very big piece of his soul.

 

This room is what Craig has spent the majority of his twenties working towards.

 

It didn’t feel real when he received the acceptance letter, or even when he’d gone to consult with his supervisor, but here, now, in this room, it’s starting to. 

 

There’s something about how pristine the room is that Craig finds comforting. He knows that that is very much a  _ him  _ thing. Tweek would absolutely hate the order, the clinical environment and its sensory impacts.

 

Tweek won’t like the medical essence that the room has.

 

He hates hospitals, doctors offices, labs, whatever.

 

But what Tweek loves is Craig, and because this empty laboratory is about to become Craig’s entire life, Tweek is here to see it. To see Craig’s life’s work so far.

 

“Tweek, come here,” he says and beckons with both his hands. He doesn’t stop until Tweek is fully inside the room and pressed against his side.

 

“Mhm,” Tweek hums as he lets himself melt into Craig further. 

 

Tweek is a little groggy today. He’s been trying a new medication that is a sedative, so he’s not super talkative, but he is here. Craig knows him well enough to know that they don’t need words. They both appreciate the significance of this moment. 

 

“It’s mine Tweek,” he says, his voice threatening to overflow with elation, “it’s  _ ours.” _

 

_ “ _ It's not ours,” Tweek says, laughing kindly. “I didn’t write all those papers and  _ -hnn-  _ bust my ass getting a genetics degree.”

 

“Yeah, but you know I wouldn’t be doing this without you. You helped me find my purpose,” Craig replies, and he rubs the spot on Tweek’s forearm where his hand rests. Craig had been adrift in high school—he had zero direction or focus and it wasn’t until Tweek had his first episode that Craig’s trajectory was really cemented. 

 

More than anything Craig wanted to know,  _ why?  _ Why do people treat the brain so differently than any other organ in the human body? Why aren’t more people trying to figure out how to treat a sick brain? 

 

Google had only got Craig so far, so he decided that he’d be the one to figure out why. Or at least try.

 

Tweek’s whole life since his diagnosis at seventeen has been guesswork. Trial and error with chemicals, which drug triggers what. Craig wants to take the guesswork out of it all, to unlock the secrets DNA has in its code. If there’s a code for physical genetic illness, why not mental ones too? Why can’t he be the one to find it? 

 

He might not be able to help Tweek, or anyone, but then again, he  _ might _ .

 

It’s a chance he has to take.

 

Tweek has been saying, ever since that first stint in the hospital, that his illness makes him feel like his brain has been sanctioned. Craig figures he might as well be the one to try and lift them—if he looks long enough, hard enough, he’ll find something. Get the DNA to spill its secrets.

 

He isn’t looking for a cure; he’s not that naive or arrogant. But he does want to find something, anything that might take some of the ‘art’ out of the science of medicating mental illness. 

 

“It’s your work my love, you deserve all the  _ -ah-  _ credit for it,” Tweek says kindly at his side. Craig knows that technically the work is  _ his  _ but much like when Tweek paints vivid and full, expansive life drawings of him, Tweek is very much his muse.

 

“Still, it’s important to me that you’re a part of it babe,” he says, and gives Tweek’s arm a gentle squeeze.

 

Tweek twists his wedding band as he looks around nervously. Craig knows he’s not the biggest fan of the lab, but he appreciates Tweek’s willingness to dive out of his comfort zone to support him.

 

Craig still has to remind himself sometimes that they’re actually  _ married,  _ even not quite a decade later. 

 

When he was in high school Craig had a lot more naive ideas about marriage than he does now. He’d dreamed about a big event where he (and his later fantasies included Tweek too) was completely in control. Where he could add in details that were theirs down to the flowers and the centrepieces. 

 

He wanted things to go a certain way. He wanted to propose (in his daydreams he was always the one to propose, but theoretically Tweek could have done so too) in exactly the right way, say the exact right words. He wanted everything timed perfectly for a set of Kodak moments. 

 

Reality came and knocked teenage Craig right off that cloud and back down on his ass on the hard ground. None of his dreams nor his holier-than-though ideals ended up panning out, and he wouldn’t have done it any other way. 

 

Craig didn’t want to call it a shotgun wedding, because it obviously wasn’t, but he did feel like Tweek was in a hostage situation. It was always about money, Tweek’s parents always holding the health insurance they paid for over Tweek’s head and making him feel like he didn’t even deserve to feel well.

 

When Craig got his first real job, he’d had enough. 

 

They got married at city hall with Craig’s family, Clyde, Bebe, Kenny and the judge as their only guests. Clyde happily agreed to be their witness. 

 

Craig’s parents weren’t very happy that they’d done things so rushed and with barely any preparation, but under the circumstances they’d been reluctantly supportive. Tweek’s parents weren’t invited.

 

For Tweek holding a regular job was a struggle. When his meds were working it was like some kind of mechanism clicked on and slotted all his pieces into the right place. He could do jobs like serve coffee or customer service and come home and still be Tweek—but this was only when the drugs worked. 

 

When the drugs weren’t working all those pieces tried to fit through the wrong holes and smooth clockwork became awful ticks and creaks. It had kept him out of school and away from really finding a career to climb up the ranks in. Craig thought sometimes that when things were good Tweek lived a better life for it, but it wasn’t something he ever said out loud. 

 

Tweek got to live with his head out of the rat race for the most part, even if he didn’t realise it or want it. He clearly felt guilty but Craig really liked to watch him thrive, to use the space to create and grow. When he could, Tweek would take commissions for artwork and custom paintings on Etsy, and would occasionally pose as a life drawing model. He wasn’t living off it but every little bit helps and Craig knows that Tweek would crumble and wilt in an office if he were forced. Craig does not feel the claustrophobia in his lab; it might be his job but it’s also where he wants to be. He is one of the lucky few. 

 

Not all of their friends had fared as well as Craig had, but it’s not necessarily awful and bleak either. It’s just reality and it deals out doses of good and bad in the same way Tweek counts out his pills in the morning. Not everyone gets their dreams but most people do get normality and mediocrity.

 

Clyde and Bebe had stayed broken up. Bebe and Wendy had continued on together for a while but it ended not long after they graduated. Wendy, like Craig, had gotten herself a scholarship and had up and left. Craig was only going to Denver and Tweek was willing to go with him. Wendy had moved away to study law and there wasn’t a chance in hell that Bebe could get her shit together to go with her. There was a lot of public yelling and crying about it which Craig had tried his very best to stay neutral on. 

 

Then Bebe had moved on to Kenny, and it made a lot of sense really. Seeing as they were both holding down minimum wage and stuck in the same shitty small town they’d grown up in. They’d done the whole get married, have a couple of kids shebang that people often do, but their holy union was also quite short lived. 

 

Not in a bad way though. Clyde had come back to South Park to be a football coach after finishing his degree and they’d taken back up again. 

 

This time as a polyamorous unit.

 

Craig thinks it works like this; Clyde and Bebe are together, but they both fuck other people. Kenny is still married to Bebe and they sometimes fool around if they feel so inclined (Craig wishes he didn’t know that part) and Kenny is in a committed relationship with Butters, who he all but rescued from his controlling parents. Craig is a one-man kinda guy himself but he supposes that if you can make it work, why not?

 

Craig doesn’t know what actually happened to Wendy after she left, but he sort of wishes he did.

 

Most people they went to school with have kids. Bebe had another one with Clyde after her disastrous marriage to Kenny ended. He thinks Nichole and Token got married and had two—Jimmy definitely has like, four kids with a couple of different women Craig has never met. 

 

He and Tweek decided not to have any. At first, before they had “the conversation,” Craig had just figured they weren’t stable enough. 

 

Craig had debt from school, Tweek wasn’t always employed regularly and sometimes Tweek might relapse and need all of Craig’s attention. 

 

Chronic illnesses are things to be managed, not cured. Just because Tweek isn’t always well doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a good life. The longer he lives with bipolar disorder the more he, and Craig both, learn how to manage it. 

 

Years ago, when Craig was younger and understood less about the world, he thought he might want children, especially when he and Tweek were at their happiest as teenagers—he naively dreamed of a house, a dog and two or three children with Tweek. That they’d somehow  _ just know  _ how to parent and everything would fall into place.

 

Tweek made it very clear that he doesn’t want any, not because he doesn’t love Craig or that he thinks they are incapable, but he feels that he is being merciful. That even if they have children that are biologically Craig’s and therefore circumnavigating Tweek’s bipolar gene that these hypothetical children are  _ still  _ going to have a bipolar parent. That somehow Tweek’s presence will always be chaotic and painful, which Craig disagrees with but has come to terms with as a fact that Tweek isn’t going to budge on. 

 

In fact Craig believes the opposite. He has seen through his research that people with mental illnesses can make wonderful parents. He’s read a fair few studies on the matter and written his own papers about those studies. 

 

Craig realised this was something he was going to have to choose between—and he chose Tweek. 

 

The longer they left it and the more Craig settled into the idea of their lives being just them the more at peace with his decision he felt. Craig may not be standing where he is now if they’d decided to have children; he may not have been able to really put in the effort to be a PhD candidate in the first place. 

 

He felt like they were a family anyway, just them and their guinea pigs as they are. Two halves to a whole. 

 

He still can’t quite comprehend that this is actually happening. That he’s going to be a doctor. Not for a few years, and he’s actually going to have to write his damn dissertation, but still. 

 

“You alright?” Tweek asks, pulling him from his reverie.

 

“Yeah, I’m probably more alright than I’ve ever been,” Craig replies.

 

“I can’t wait to tell everybody I married a doctor,” Tweek tells him with that mischievous grin and glint in his eye to match. Craig hasn’t seen this playful part of Tweek in a little while because of the fog his new meds have shrouded his brain in recently. It makes Craig’s heart skip a beat to see it return.

 

Tweek is his one, his person. His whole entire universe contained in this mess of a boy. His silly, slightly neurotic and scruffy husband. 

 

He pulls Tweek closer and in for a kiss. It always feels the same but Craig never tires of it. The sparks are still there, flickering and threatening to create a new Big Bang right here and then. The stuff of creation between them, in this lab, here and now, takes his breath away. Their universe never stops expanding.

 

Craig holds Tweek closer into his side and surveys the room again.

 

Yes, this where he,  _ they,  _ are supposed to be. This is where his adult life has led him and he loves it. He loves Tweek, but it’s more than just feelings, more than a heart pumping blood through veins. It’s more than the star stuff that they are made of, even their universe that cannot expand quick enough to accommodate their love. 

 

It’s purpose—Craig is here, to try to help at least, to lift the sanctions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if we’re even still on tumblr at this point... I also have a discord, which you’re welcome to add me on, just send through a message! 
> 
> This fic has a corresponding playlist on Spotify that I can hopefully figure out how to link. If not it'll be on my tumblr if you’re interested.


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